. . . . 


L  \ 

Kl  * 

■es-." 

LUKE  WALTON 

OR 

THE  CHICAGO  NEWSBOY 


BY 

HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 

AUTHOR  OF  “RAGGED  DICK  SERIES,”  “DUCK  AKf! 
PLUCK  SERIES,”  ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA, 


CHICAGO, 


TORONTO. 


FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 


Ragged  Dick. 

Fame  and  Fortune. 
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TATTERED  TOM  SERIES. 

Cloth.  First  Series. 

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Paul  the  Peddler. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES. 

Julius. 

The  Young  Outlaw. 


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Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Rufus  and  Rose. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo. 

Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Slow  and  Sure. 

4  vols.  12mo.  Cloth.  Second  Series. 

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The  Telegraph  Boy. 


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Frank’s  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman’s  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott’s  Charge. 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES. 

Cloth.  First  Series. 

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Sink  or  Swim. 


By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo. 

Strong  and  Steady. 

Strive  and  Succeed. 


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Cloth. 

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Jack’s  Ward. 


4  vols.  12mo.  Cloth.  Second  Series. 

Risen  from  the  Ranks. 
Herbert  Carter’s  Legacy. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12ma 

Shifting  for  Himself. 

Wait  and  Hope. 


PACIFIC  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo. 

The  Young  Adventurer.  The  Young  Explorers. 

The  Young  Miner.  Ben’s^Nugget. 


ATLANTIC  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols. 

The  Young  Circus  Rider.  Hector’s  Inheritance. 

Do  and  Dare.  Helping  Himself. 


WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo, 

Cloth. 

Bob  Burton.  Luke  Walton. 

The  Store  Boy.  Struggling  Upward. 


NEW  WORLD  SERIES. 

Digging  for  Gold. 


By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Facing  the  World.  In  a  New  World. 


Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 


Copyright,  1889,  by  Porter  &  Coates. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  Chicago  Newsboy,  .....  5 

II.  A  Letter  from  the  Dead,  -  -  -  -  13 

III.  Luke  Forms  a  Resolution,  -  -  -  -  20 

IV.  An  Attack  in  the  Dark,  ....  29 

Y.  How  Luke  Escaped, . 36 

YI.  Mr.  Afton’s  Office,  .....  43 

VII.  A  Strange  Encounter, . 53 

VIII.  A  Marked  Man, . 61 

IX.  Stephen  Webb, . 70 


X.  Stephen  Webb  Obtains  Some  Information,  78 


XI.  A  House  on  Prairie  Avenue,  -  -  -  >86 

XII.  A  Plot  that  Failed, . 94 

XIII.  Tom  Brooks  in  Trouble, . 103 

XIY.  Luke  has  a  Cool  Reception  in  Prairie 

Avenue, . Ill 

XY.  A  Welcome  Gift, .  121 

XVI.  Thomas  Browning  at  Home,  ....  129 

XVII.  A  Strange  Visitor, . 138 

XVIII.  How  Jack  King  Fared,  . . 147 

XIX.  A  Sensational  Incident,  ....  154 

XX.  Ambrose  Kean’s  Imprudence,  ....  162 


•  •  • 
111 


IV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  A  Friend  in  Need, . 170 

XXII.  How  Ambrose  Kean  was  Saved,  -  -  178 

XXIII.  Stephen  Webb  is  Puzzled,  ...  187 
XXIY.  Mrs.  Merton  Passes  a  Pleasant  Evening,  196 
XXV.  i  Mrs.  Tracy’s  Brother,  -  205 

XXVI.  The  Prodigal’s  Reception,  -  -  -  213 

XXVII.  Uncle  and  Nephew, . 222 

XXVIII.  Harold’s  Temptation,  ....  230 

XXIX.  Harold’s  Theft, . 238 

XXX.  Luke  Walton  is  Suspected  of  Theft,  246 
XXXI.  Who  Stole  the  Money,  ....  255 
XXXII.  Harold  and  Felicie  Make  an  Arrange¬ 
ment,  . 264 

XXXIII.  Harold’s  Plot  Fails,  -  271 

XXXIV.  Harold  Makes  a  Purchase,  -  -  -  281 

XXXV.  A  Skillful  Invention,  ....  290 

XXXVI.  Warner  Powell  Starts  on  a  Journey,  299 
XXXVII.  Thomas  Browning’s  Secret,  -  -  -  307 

XXXVIII.  Felicie  Proves  Troublesome,  -  -  316 

XXXIX.  Luke  Walton’s  Letter,  ....  323 
XL.  Face  to  Face  with  the  Enemy,  -  -  329 

XLI.  Mr.  Browning  Comes  to  Terms,  -  -  335 

XLII.  Conclusion, . 339 


LUKE  WALTON. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  CHICAGO  NEWSBOY. 


It  0  TPS  and  Mail ,  one  cent  each  !  ” 


Half  a  dozen  Chicago  newsboys,  vary¬ 


ing  in  age  from  ten  to  sixteen  years,  with  piles 
of  papers  in  their  hands,  joined  in  the  chorus. 

They  were  standing  in  front  and  at  the  sides 
of  the  Sherman  House,  on  the  corner  of  Clark 
and  Randolph  streets,  one  of  the  noted  build¬ 
ings  in  the  Lake  City.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  Randolph  Street  stands  a  massive  but  some¬ 
what  gloomy  stone  structure,  the  Court  House 
and  City  Hall.  In  the  shadow  of  these  build¬ 
ings,  at  the  corner,  Luke  Walton,  one  of  the 
largest  newsboys,  had  posted  himself.  There 
was  something  about  his  bearing  and  appear¬ 
ance  which  distinguished  him  in  a  noticeable 
way  from  his  companions. 


6 


LUKE  WALTON-. 


f 

To  begin  with,  he  looked  out  of  place.  He 
was  well  grown,  with  a  frank,  handsome  face, 
and  was  better  dressed  than  the  average  news¬ 
boy.  That  was  the  reason,  perhaps,  why  he 
preferred  to  be  by  himself  rather  than  to  en¬ 
gage  in  the  scramble  for  customers  which  was 
the  habit  of  the  boys  around  him. 

It  was  about  half-past  five.  The  numerous 
cars  that  passed  were  full  of  business  men, 
clerks,  and  boys  returning  to  their  homes  after 
a  busy  day. 

Luke  had  but  two  papers  left,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  dispose  of  them  so  that  he,  too, 
might  go  home.  But  these  two  for  some  unac¬ 
countable  reason  remained  on  his  hands  an  un¬ 
usual  length  of  time.  But  at  length  a  comfort¬ 
able-looking  gentleman  of  middle  age,  coming 
from  the  direction  of  La  Salle  Street,  paused 
and  said,  4 ‘You  may  give  me  a  News ,  my 
boy.”  -  ■  ;/: 

Luke  gladly  complied  with  his  request. 

“  Here  you  are,  sir,”  he  said  briskly. 

The  gentleman  took  the  paper,  and  thrusting 
his  hands  into  his  pocket,  began  to  feel  for  a 
penny,  but  apparently  without  success. 


A  CHICAGO  NEWSBOY. 


7 


“I  declare,”  lie  said,  smiling,  “ I  believe  I 
am  penniless.  I  have  nothing  but  a  five-dollar 

bill.” 

“Never  mind,  sir!  Take  the  paper  and 
pay  me  to  morrow.” 

•  “  But  I  may  not  see  you.” 

“  I  am  generally  here  about  this  time.” 

“And  if  I  shouldn’t  see  you,  you  will  lose 
the  penny.” 

“I  will  risk  it,  sir,”  said  Luke,  smiling. 

“  You  appear  to  have  coniidence  in  me.” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Then  it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  have 
confidence  in  you.” 

Luke  looked  puzzled,  for  he  didn’t  quite  un¬ 
derstand  what  was  in  the  gentleman’s  mind. 

“I  will  take  both  of  your  papers.  Here  is 
a  five-dollar  bill.  You  may  bring  me  the 
change  to-morrow,  at  my  office,  No.  155'  La 
Salle  Street.  My  name  is  Benjamin  Afton.” 

“  But,  sir,”  objected  Luke,  “  there  is  no  oc¬ 
casion  for  this.  It  is  much  better  that  I 
should  trust  you  for  two  cents  than  that  you 
should  trust  me  with  five  dollars.” 

“  Probably  the  two  cents  areas  important 


8 


LUKE  WALTON". 


to  you  as  five  dollars  to  me.  At  any  rate  it  is 
a  matter  of  confidence,  and  I  am  quite  willing 
to  trust  you.” 

“  Thank  you,  sir,  but — ” 

“  I  shall  have  to  leave  you,  or  I  shall  be 
home  late  to  dinner.” 

Before  Luke  had  a  chance  to  protest  farther, 
he  found  himself  alone,  his  stock  of  papers 
exhausted,  and  a  five-dollar  bill  in  his  hand. 

While  he  stood  on  the  corner  in  some  per¬ 
plexity,  a  newsboy  crossed  Randolph  Street, 
and  accosted  him. 

“  My  eyes,  if  you  aint  in  luck,  Luke  Wal¬ 
ton,”  he  said.  “  Where’ d  you  get  that  bill? 
Is  it  a  one  ?  ’ ? 

“  No,  it’s  a  five.” 

“  Where’ d  you  get  it  ?  ” 

“A  gentleman  just  bought  two  papers  of 
me.” 

“And  gave  you  five  dollars  !  You  don’t 
expect  me  to  swaller  all  that,  do  you  ?  ” 

“  I’m  to  bring  him  the  change  to-morrow,” 
continued  Luke. 

The  other  boy  nearly  doubled  up  with  merri¬ 
ment. 


A  CHICAGO  NEWSBOY. 


9 


“  Wasn’t  lie  jolly  green,  though  ?  ”  he  ejacu¬ 
lated. 

“  Why  was  he  ?  ”  asked  Luke,  who  by  this 
time  felt  considerably  annoyed. 

“He’ll  have  to  whistle  for  his  money.” 

“Why  will  he?”  i 

“  ’Cause  he  will.” 

“  He  won’t  do  anything  of  the  sort.  I  shall 
take  him  his  change  to-morrow  morning.” 

“What?”  ejaculated  Tom  Brooks  in  a 
shrill  crescendo. 

‘ 4 1  shall  carry  him  his  change  in  the  morn¬ 
ing — four  dollars  and  ninety-eight  cents. 
Can’t  you  understand  that  ?  ” 

“You  ain’t  goin’  to  be  such  a  fool,  Luke 
Walton?” 

“  If  it’s  being  a  fool  to  be  honest,  then  I’m 
going  to  be  that  kind  of  a  fool.  Wouldn’t 
you  do  the  same  ?  ’  ’ 

“No,  I  wouldn’t.  I’d  just  invite  all  the  boys 
round  the  corner  to  go  with  me  to  the  theay  ter. 
Come,  Luke,  be  a  good  feller,  and  give  us  all 
a  blow-out.  W  e’  11  go  to  the  theay  ter,  and  after¬ 
wards  we’ll  have  an  oyster  stew.  I  know  a 
bully  place  on  Clark  Street,  near  Monroe.” 


10 


LUKE  WALTON. 


•  4  4  Do  you  take  me  for  a  thief,  Tom  Brooks  ?  ” 
exclaimed  Luke  indignantly. 

4  4  The  gentleman  meant  you  to  have  the 
money.  Of  course  he  knew  you  wouldn’t 
bring  it  back.  Lemme  see,  there’s  a  good  play 
on  to  Hooley’s.  Six  of  us  will  cost  a  dollar 
and  a  half,  and  the  oyster  stews  will  be  fif¬ 
teen  cents  apiece.  That’ll  only  take  half  the 
money,  and  you’ll  have  half  left  for  yourself.” 

44  lam  ashamed  of  you,  Tom  Brooks.  You 
want  me  to  become  a  thief,  and  it  is  very  evi¬ 
dent  what  you  would  do  if  you  were  in 
my  place.  What  would  the  gentleman  think 
of  me  %  ’  ’ 

44  He  don’t  know  you.  You  can  go  on  State 
Street  to  sell  papers,  so  he  won’t  see  you.” 

44  Suppose  he  should  see  me  ?” 

44  You  can  tell  him  you  lost  the  money. 
You  ain't  smart,  Luke  Walton,  or  you’d  know 
how  to  manage.” 

44  No,  I  am  not  smart  in  that  Avay,  I  confess. 
I  shan’t  waste  any  more  time  talking  to  you. 
I'm  going  home.” 

44 1  know  what  you’re  goin’  to  do.  You’re 
goin’  to  spend  all  the  money  on  yourself.” 


A  CHICAGO  NEWSBOY. 


11 


“Don’t  you  believe  that  I  mean  to  return 
the  change  ?  ” 

“  No,  I  don’t,” 

“I  ought  not  to  complain  of  that.  You 
merely  credit  me  with  acting  as  you  would  act 
yourself.  How  many  papers  have  you  got 
left?” 

“Eight.” 

“  Here,  give  me  half,  and  I  will  sell  them  for 
you  ;  that  is,  if  I  can  do  it  in  fifteen  minutes.” 

“I’d  rather  you’d  take  me  to  the  theayter,” 
grumbled  Tom. 

“  I  have  already  told  you  I  won’t  do  it.” 

In  ten  minutes  Luke  had  sold  his  extra  sup¬ 
ply  of  papers,  and  handed  the  money  to  Tom. 
Tom  thanked  him  in  an  ungracious  sort  of  way 
and  Luke  started  for  home. 

It  was  a  long  walk,  for  the  poor  cannot  af¬ 
ford  to  pick  and  choose  their  localities.  Luke 
took  his  way  through  Clark  Street  to  the  river, 
and  then,  turning  in  a  northwesterly  direction, 

_  i 

reached  Milwaukee  Avenue.  This  is  not  a 
fashionable  locality,  and  the  side  streets  are 
tenanted  by  those  who  are  poor  or  of  limited 


means. 


12 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Luke  paused  in  front  of  a  tliree-story  frame 
house  in  Green  Street,  which  might  have  been 
improved  by  a  coat  of  paint.  He  ascended  the 
steps  and  opened  the  door,  for  this  was  the 
newsboy’s  home. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  LETTER  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

IN  the  entry  Luke  met  a  girl  of  fourteen  with 
fiery-red  hair,  which  apparently  was  a 
stranger  to  the  comb  and  brush.  She  was  the 
landlady’s  daughter,  and,  though  of  rather 
fitful  and  uncertain  temper,  always  had  a 
smile  and  pleasant  word  for  Luke,  who  was  a 
favorite  of  hers. 

“  Well,  Nancy,  how’s  mother?”  asked  the 
newsboy,  as  he  began  to  ascend  the  front 
stairs. 

‘‘She  seems  rather  upset  like,  Luke,”  an¬ 
swered  Nancy. 

“  What  has  happened  to  upset  her  ?  ”  asked 
Luke  anxiously. 

“I  think  it’s  a  letter  she  got  about  noon.  It 
was  a  queer  letter,  all  marked  up,  as  if  it  had 
been  travelin’  round,  and  was  stained  with  to¬ 
bacco.  How  it  did  smell !  I  took  it  in  my¬ 
self,  and  carried  it  up  to  your  ma.  I  stayed 

13 


14 


LUKE  WALTON. 


to  see  her  open  it,  for  I  was  kind  of  curious  to 
know  who  writ  it.” 

“Well?” 

“  As  soon  as  your  ina  opened  it,  she  turned 
as  pale  as  ashes,  and  I  thought  she’d  faint 
away.  She  put  her  hand  on  her  heart  just 
so,”  and  Nancy  placed  a  rather  dirty  hand  of 
her  own,  on  which  glittered  a  five-cent  brass 
ring,  over  that  portion  of  her  anatomy  where 
she  supposed  her  heart  lay. 

“She  didn't  faint  away?”  asked  Luke, 
quickly. 

“No,  not  quite.” 

4  4  Did  she  say  who  the  letter  was  from  ?  ’  ’ 

44  No  ;  I  asked  her,  but  she  said,  4  From  no 
one  that  you  ever  saw,  Nancy.’  I  say,  Luke, 
if  you  find  out  who  it’ s  from,  let  me  know.  I 
shan’t  sleep  a  wink  if  I  don’t  find  out.” 

44 1  won’t  promise,  Nancy.  Perhaps  mother 
would  prefer  to  keep  it  a  secret.” 

44  Oh,  well,  keep  your  old  secrets,  if  you 
want  to,”  said  Nancy  pettishly. 

44  Don’t  be  angry,  Nancy;  I  will  tell  you  if 
I  can,”  and  Luke  hurried  upstairs  to  the  third 
story,  which  contained  the  three  rooms  oc- 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  DEAD. 


15 


cupied  by  his  mother,  his  little  brother  and 
himself. 

Opening  the  door  he  saw  his  mother  sitting 
in  a  rocking-chair,  apparently  in  deep  thought, 
for  the  work  had  fallen  from  her  hands  and 
lay  in  her  lap.  There  was  an  expression  of 
sadness  in  her  face,  as  if  she  had  been  thinking 
of  the  painful  past,  when  the  little  family  was 
prosperous,  and  undisturbed  by  poverty  or 
privation. 

“  What’s  the  matter,  mother  ?  ”  asked  Luke, 
with  solicitude. 

Mrs.  Walton  looked  up  quickly. 

“  I  have  been  longing  to  have  you  come 
back,  Luke,”  she  said.  “  Something  strange 
has  happened  to-day.” 

“  You  received  a  letter,  did  you  not  %  ” 

“  Who  told  you,  Luke  ?  ” 

u  JNancy  ;  I  met  her  as  I  came  in.  She  said 
she  brought  up  the  letter,  and  that  you 
appeared  very  much  agitated  when  you 
opened  it.” 

“  It  is  true.” 

“  From  whom  was  the  letter,  then,  mother  V9 

“  From  your  father.” 


16 


LUKE  WALTOiNf. 


“  What  !  ”  exclaimed  Luke,  with  a  start. 
“  Is  he  not  dead  ?  ” 

“  The  letter  was  written  a, year  ago.” 

“  Why,  then,  has  it  arrived  so  late?” 

“  Your  father  on  his  death -bed  intrusted  it 
to  some  one  who  mislaid  it,  and  has  only  just 
discovered  and  mailed  it.  On  the  envelope  he 
explains  this,  and  expresses  his  regret.  It  was 
at  first  mailed  to  our  old  home,  and  has  been 
forwarded  from  there.  But  that  is  not  all, 
Luke.  I  learn  from  the  letter  that  we  have  been 
cruelly  wronged.  Your  father,  when  he  knew 
he  could  not  live,  intrusted  to  a  man  in  whom 
he  had  confidence,  ten  thousand  dollars  to  be 
conveyed  to  us.  This  wicked  man  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  but  kept  it,  thinking  we 
should  never  know  anything  about  it.  You 
will  find  it  all  explained  in  the  letter.” 

“  Let  me  read  it,  mother,”  said  Luke,  in  ex¬ 
citement. 

Mrs.  Walton  opened  a  drawer  of  the  bureau, 
and  placed  in  her  son’s  hands  an  envelope, 
brown  and  soiled  by  contact  with  tobacco. 
It  was  directed  to  her  in  a  shaky  hand. 
Across  one  end  were  written  these  words : 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  DEAD. 


17 


“  This  letter  was  mislaid.  I  have  just  dis¬ 
covered  it,  and  mail  it,  hoping  it  will  reach 
you  without  any  further  delay.  Many  apolo¬ 
gies  and  regrets.  J.  Hanshaw.” 

Luke  did  not  spend  much  time  upon  the  en¬ 
velope,  but  opened  the  letter. 

The  sight  of  his  father’s  familiar  handwrit¬ 
ing  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes,  moving  him, 
though  not  in  the  same  degree,  as  it  had  moved 
his  mother. 

This  was  the  letter  : 

Gold  Gulch,  California. 
My  Dear  Wife  : 

It  is  a  solemn  thought  to  me  that  when  you 
receive  this  letter  these  trembling  fingers  will 
be  cold  in  death.  Yes,  dear  Mary,  I  know 
very  well  that  I  am  on  my  death-bed,  and  shall 
never  more  be  permitted  to  see  your  sweet 
face,  or  meet  again  the  gaze  of  my  dear  chil¬ 
dren.  Last  week  I  contracted  a  severe  cold 
when  mining,  partly  through  imprudent  ex¬ 
posure,  and  have  grown  steadily  worse,  till  the 
doctor,  whom  I  summoned  from  Sacramento, 
informs  me  that  there  is  no  hope,  and  that  my 
life  is  not  likely  to  extend  beyond  two  days. 

This  is  a  sad  end  to  my  dreams  of  future 
happiness  with  my  little  family  gathered 
2 


18 


LUKE  WALTOJST. 


around  me.  It  is  all  the  harder,  because  I 
have  been  successful  in  the  errand  that 
brought  me  out  here.  I  have  “  struck  it  rich, ” 
as  they  say  out  here,  and  have  been  able  to  lay 
by  ten  thousand  dollars.  I  intended  to  go 
home  next  month,  carrying  this  with  me.  It 
would  have  enabled  me  to  start  in  some  busi¬ 
ness  which  would  have  yielded  us  a  liberal 
living,  and  provided  a  comfortable  home  for 
you  and  the  children.  But  all  this  is  over — 
for  me  at  least.  For  you  I  hope  the  money 
will  bring  wliat  I  anticipated.  I  wish  I  could 
live  long  enough  to  see  it  in  your  hands,  but 
that  can  not  be. 

I  have  intrusted  it  to  a  friend  who  has  been 
connected  with  me  here,  Thomas  Butler,  of 
Chicago.  He  has  solemnly  promised  to  seek 
you  out,  and  put  the  money  into  your  hands. 
I  think  he  will  be  true  to  his  trust.  Indeed  I 
have  no  doubt  on  the  subject,  for  I  can  not 
conceive  of  any  man  being  base  enough  to 
belie  the  confidence  placed  in  him  by  a  dying 
man,  and  despoil  a  widow  and  her  fatherless 
children.  Ho,  I  will  not  permit  myself  to  doubt 
the  integrity  of  my  friend.  If  I  should,  it  would 
make  my  last  sickness  exceedingly  bitter. 

Yet,  as  something  might  happen  to  Butlei 
on  his  way  home,  though  exceedingly  improb¬ 
able,  I  think  it  well  to  describe  him  to  you. 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  DEAD. 


19 


He  is  a  man  of  nearly  fifty,  I  should  say,  about 
five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  with  a  dark  com¬ 
plexion,  and  dark  hair  a  little  tinged  with 
gray.  He  will  weigh  about  one  hundred  and 
sixty  pounds.  But  there  is  one  striking  mark 
about  him  which  will  serve  to  identify  him. 
He  has  a  wart  on  the  upper  part  of  his  right 
cheek — a  mark  which  disfigures  him  and  mor¬ 
tifies  him  exceedingly.  He  has  consulted  a 
physician  about  its  removal,  but  has  been  told 
that  the  operation  would  involve  danger,  and 
moreover  would  not  be  effectual,  as  the  wart  is 
believed  to  be  of  a  cancerous  nature,  and 
would  in  all  xorobability  grow  out  again.  For 
these  reasons  he  has  given  up  his  intention  of 
having  it  removed,  and  made  up  his  mind  unwil¬ 
lingly  enough  to  carry  it  to  the  grave  with  him. 

I  have  given  you  this  long  description,  not 
because  it  seemed  at  all  necessary,  for  I  believe 
Thomas  Butler  to  be  a  man  of  strict  honesty,  but 
because  for  some  reason  I  am  impelled  to  do  so. 

I  am  very  tired,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  close. 
God  bless  you,  dear  wife,  and  guard  our  chil¬ 
dren  soon  to  be  fatherless  ! 

Your  loving  husband, 

Frederick  Walton. 

P.  S.  Butler  left  to-day  for  the  East.  This 
letter  I  have  given  to  another  friend  to  mail 
after  my  death. 


CHAPTER  III. 


LUKE  FORMS  A  RESOLUTION. 

S  Luke  read  tliis  letter  liis  pleasant  face 


JL.-V-  became  stern  in  its  expression.  They 
had  indeed  been  cruelly  wronged.  The  large 
sum  of  which  they  had  been  defrauded  would 
have  insured  them  comfort  and  saved  them 
from  many  an  anxiety.  His  mother  would 
not  have  been  obliged  to  take  in  sewing,  and 
he  himself  could  have  carried  out  his  cherished 
design  of  obtaining  a  college  education. 

This  man  in  whom  his  father  had  reposed 
the  utmost  confidence  had  been  false  to  his 
trust.  He  had  kept  in  his  own  hands  the 
money  which  should  have  gone  to  the  widow 
and  children  of  his  dying  friend.  Could  any¬ 
thing  be  more  base  ? 

“Mother,”  said  Luke,  “this  man  Thomas 
Butler  must  be  a  villain.” 

“  Yes,  Luke  ;  he  has  done  us  a  great 
wrong.” 


20 


LUKE  FORMS  A  RESOLUTION. 


21 


“He  thought,  no  doubt,  that  we  should 
never  hear  of  this  money.” 

“  I  almost  wish  I  had  not,  Luke.  It  is  very 
tantalizing  to  think  how  it  would  have  im¬ 
proved  our  condition.” 

“Then  you  are  sorry  to  receive  the  letter, 
mother  \  ’  ’ 

i 

“No,  Luke.  It  seems  like  a  message  from 
the  dead,  and  shows  me  how  good  and 
thoughtful  your  poor  father  was  to  the  last. 
He  meant  to  leave  us  comfortable.” 

“  But  his  plans  were  defeated  by  a  rascal. 
Mother,  I  should  like  to  meet  and  punish  this 
Thomas  Butler.” 

“Even  if  you  should  meet  him,  Luke,  you 
must  be  prudent.  He  is  probably  a  rich 
man.” 

“Made  so  at  our  expense,”  added  Luke 
bitterly. 

‘ 4  And  he  would  deny  having  received  any¬ 
thing  from  your  father.” 

“Mother,”  said  Luke  sternly  and  deliber¬ 
ately,  “  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  some  day  meet 
this  man  face  to  face,  and  if  I  do  it  will  go 
hard  if  I  don’t  force  him  to  give  up  this 


LUKE  WALTON. 


m 

money  which  he  has  falsely  converted  to  his 
own  use.” 

The  boy  spoke  with  calm  and  resolute  dig¬ 
nity,  hardly  to  be  expected  in  one  so  young, 
and  with  a  deep  conviction  that  surprised  his 
mother. 

“ Luke,”  she  said,  “I  hardly  know  you  to¬ 
night.  You  don’t  seem  like  a  boy.  You  speak 
like  a  man.” 

“I  feel  so,  mother.  It  is  the  thought  of 
this  man,  triumphant  in  his  crime,  that 
makes  me  feel  older  than  I  am.  Yow,  mother, 
I  feel  that  I  have  a  purpose  in  life.  It  is  to 
find  this  man,  and  punish  him  for  what  he  has 
done,  unless  he  will  make  reparation.” 

Mrs.  Walton  shook  her  head.  It  was  not 
from  her  that  Luke  had  inherited  his  independ¬ 
ent  spirit.  She  was  a  fond  mother,  of  great 
amiability,  but  of  a  timid,  shrinking  disposi¬ 
tion,  which  led  her  to  deprecate  any  aggressive 
steps. 

“  Promise  me  not  to  get  yourself  into  any 
trouble,  Luke,”  she  said,  “even  if  you  do 
meet  this  man.” 

“I  can’t  promise  that,  mother,  for  I  may 


LUKE  FORMS  A  RESOLUTION. 


23 


not  be  able  to  help  it.  Besides,  I  haven’t  met 
him  yet,  and  as  President  Lincoln  said,  it  isn’t 
necessary  to  cross  a  bridge  till  yon  get  to  it. 
jNoyv  let  us  talk  of  something  else.” 

“Ho  vv  much  did  you  make  to-day,  Luke  %  ” 
asked  Bennie,  his  young  brother,  seven  years 
old. 

“I  didn’t  make  my  fortune,.  Bennie.  In¬ 
cluding  the  morning  papers  I  only  made  sixty 
cents.” 

“That  seems  a  good  deal  to  me,  Luke,” 
said  his  mother.  “I  only  made  twenty-five. 
They  pay  such  small  prices  for  making  shirts.” 

“I  should  think  they  did.  And  yet  you 
worked  harder  and  more  steadily  than  I  did,  I 
have  no  doubt.” 

“I  have  worked  since  morning,  probably 
about  eight  hours.” 

“Then  you  have  made  only  three  cents  an 
hour.  What  a  shame  !  ” 

“If  I  had  a  sewing-machine,  I  could  do 
more,  but  that  is  beyond  our  means.” 

“I  hope  soon  to  be  able  to  get  you  one, 
mother.  I  can  pay  something  down  and  the 
rest  in  installments.” 


LUKE  WALTON. 


o  < 

“  That  would  be  quite  a  relief,  Luke.’’ 

“If  you  liad  a  sewing-machine,  perhaps  I 
could  help  you,”  suggested  Bennie. 

“  I  should  hardly  dare  to  let  you  try,  Ben¬ 
nie.  Suppose  you  spoiled  a  shirt.  It  would 
take  off  two  days’  earnings.  But  I’ll  tell  you 
what  you  can  do.  You  can  set  the  table,  and 
wash  the  dishes,  and  relieve  me  in  that  way.” 

“Or  you  might  take  in  washing,”  said 
Luke,  with  a  laugh.  4  ‘  That  pays  better  than 
sewing.  Just  imagine  liow  nice  it  would  look 
in  an  advertisement  in  the  daily  papers :  ‘  A 
boy  of  seven  is  prepared  to  wash  and  iron  for 
responsible  parties.  Address  Bennie  Walton, 
No.  161  1-2  Green  Street,  near  Milwaukee 
Avenue.’  ” 

“Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Luke,”  said 
Bennie,  pouting.  “  Why  won’t  you  let  me  go 
out  with  you  and  sell  papers?  I  have  seen 
newsboys  no  bigger  than  I  am.” 

“I  hope,  Bennie,”  said  Luke  gravely,  “  you 
will  never  have  to  go  into  the  street  with 
papers.  I  know  what  it  is,  and  how  poor  boys 
fare.  One  night  last  week,  at  the  corner  of 
Monroe  and  Clark  streets,  I  saw  a  poor  little 


LUKE  FORMS  A  RESOLUTION. 


25 


chap,  no  older  than  you,  selling  papers  at  eleven 
o’clock.  He  had  a  dozen  papers  which  he  was 
likely  to  have  left  on  his  hands,  for  there  are 
not  many  who  will  buy  papers  at  that  hour.” 

“Did  you  speak  to  him,  Luke?”  asked 
Bennie,  interested. 

“  Yes  ;  I  told  him  he  ought  to  go  home. 
But  he  said  that  if  he  went  home  with  all 
those  papers  unsold,  his  stepfather  would 
whip  him.  There  were  tears  in  the  poor  boy’s 
eyes  as  he  spoke.” 

“What  did  you  do,  Luke  ?” 

“I’ll  tell  you  what  I  did,  Bennie.  I  thought 
of  you,  and  I  i>aid  him  the  cost  price  on  his 
papers.  It  wasn’t  much,  for  they  were  all 
penny  papers,  but  the  poor  little  fellow  seemed 
so  relieved.” 

‘  ‘  Did  you  sell  them  yourself,  Luke  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  sold  four  of  them.  I  wrent  over  to  Madi¬ 
son  Street,  and  stood  in  front  of  Me  dicker’s 
Theater  just  as  the  people  were  coming  out. 
It  so  happened  that  four  persons  bought 
papers,  so  I  was  only  two  cents  out,  after  all. 
You  remember,  mother,  that  was  the  evening 
I  got  home  so  late.” 


26 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Yes,  Luke,  I  felt  worried  about  you.  But 
you  did  right.  I  am  always  glad  to  have  you 
help  those  who  are  worse  off  than  we  are. 
How  terribly  I  should  feel  if  Benny  had  to  be 
out  late  in  the  streets  like  that !  ” 

“There  are  many  newsboys  as  young,  or  at 
any  rate  not  much  older.  I  have  sometimes 
seen  gentlemen,  handsomely  dressed,  and  evi¬ 
dently  with  jffenty  of  money,  speak  roughly 
to  these  young  boys.  It  always  makes  me 
indignant.  Why  should  they  have  so  easy  a 
time,  while  there  are  so  many  who  don’t  know 
where  their  next  meal  is  coming  from  ?  Why, 
what  such  a  man  spends  for  his  meals  in  a 
single  day  would  support  a  poor  newsboy  in 
comfort  for  a  week.” 

“  My  dear  Luke,  this  is  a  problem  which  has 
puzzled  older  and  wiser  heads  than  yours. 
There  must  always  be  poor  people,  but  those 
who  are  more  fortunate  ought  at  least  to  give 
them  sympathy.  It  is  the  least  acknowledg¬ 
ment  they  can  make  for  their  own  more 
favored  lot.” 

“I  am  going  out  a  little  while  this  evening, 
mother.” 


LUKE  FORMS  A  RESOLUTION. 


27 


“  Very  well,  Luke.  Don’t  be  late.” 

“No,  motlier,  I  won’t.  I  want  to  call  on  a 
friend  of  mine  who  is  sick.” 

“Who  is  it,  Luke?” 

“It  is  Jim  Norman.  The  poor  boy  took 
cold  one  day,  his  shoes  were  so  far  gone.  He 
has  a  bad  cough,  and  I  am  afraid  it  will  go 
hard  with  him.” 

“Is  he  a  newsboy  too,  Luke?”  asked 
Bennie  Walton. 

“  No  ;  he  is  a  bootblack.” 

“I  shouldn’t  like  to  black  boots.” 

“Nor  I,  Bennie  ;  but  if  a  boy  is  lucky  there 
is  more  money  to  be  made  in  that  business.” 

“Where  does  Jim  live?”  asked  Mrs. 
Walton. 

“On  Ohio  Street,  not  very  far  from  here. 
There’s  another  boy  I  know  lives  on  that 
street — Tom  Brooks  ;  but  he  isn’t  a  friend  of 
mine.  He  wanted  me  to  keep  the  five  dol¬ 
lars,  and  treat  him  and  some  other  boys  to 
an  evening  at  the  theater,  and  a  supper  after- 
wards.  ’  ’ 

“  I  hope  you  won’t  associate  with  him, 
Luke.” 


28 


LUKE  WALTON. 


‘‘Not  more  tlian  I  can  help.” 

Luke  took  his  hat  and  went  downstairs  into 
the  street. 

In  the  hall  he  met  Nancy.  She  waylaid  him 
with  an  eager  look  on  her  face. 

“Who  was  the  letter  from,  Luke?”  she 

asked. 

“  From  a  friend  of  the  family,  who  is  now 
dead,”  answered  Luke  gravely. 

“  Good  gracious  !  How  could  he  write  it 
after  he  was  dead  ?  ”  ejaculated  Nancy.  “And 
how  did  it  come  to  smell  so  of  tobacco  ?  ” 

“  It  was  given  to  a  person  to  mail  who  forgot 
all  about  it,  and  carried  it  in  his  pocket  for 
a  year.” 

‘  ‘  My  sakes  alive  !  If  I  got  a  letter  from  a 
dead  mail  it  would  make  me  creep  all  over. 
No  wonder  your  ma  came  near  faintin’.” 


CHAPTER  IV. 


•  \ 


■AN  ATTACK  IN  THE  DARK. 

UKE  turned  into  Milwaukee  Avenue,  and 


JLJ  a  few  steps  took  him  to  West  Ohio  Street, 
where  his  friend  lived.  On  the  way  he  met 
Tom  Brooks,  who  w^s  lounging  in  front  of  a 
cigar  store,  smoking  a  cigarette. 

44  Good-evening,  Tom,”  said  Luke  politely. 

44  Evenin’!”  responded  Tom  briefly. 
“  Where  you  goin’  %  ” 

44  To  see  Jim  Norman.  He’s  sick.” 

44  What’s  the  matter  of  him  %  ” 

“He’s  got  a  bad  cold,  and  is  confined  to  the 
house.  ’  ’ 

Tom  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

“  I  don’t  go  much  on  Jim  Norman,”  he  said. 
“  He’d  ought  to  be  a  girl.  He  never  smoked 
a  cigarette  in  his  life.” 

4  4  Didn’ t  he  \  All  the  better  for  him.  I  don’ t 
smoke  myself.” 

“You  have  smoked.” 


29 


30 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Yes,  I  used  to,  but  it  troubled  my  mother, 
and  I  promised  her  I  wouldn’t  do  it  again.” 

‘  ‘  So  you  broke  off  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

“I  wouldn’t  be  tied  to  a  woman’s  apron¬ 
string,”  said  Tom,  in  a  derisive  tone. 

“  Wouldn’t  you  try  to  oblige  your  mother  ?  ” 

“No,  I  wouldn’t.  What  does  a  woman 
know  about  boys  ?  If  I  was  a  gal  it  would  be 
different.” 

“  Then  we  don’t  agree,  that  is  all.” 

“  I  say,  Luke,  won’t  you  take  me  to  the 
theater?” 

“  I  can’t  afford  it.” 

“That’s  all  bosh  !  Haven’t  you  got  five 
dollars  ?  I’d  feel  rich  on  five  dollars.” 

“  Perhaps  I  might,  if  it  were  mine,  but  it 
isn’t.” 

“You  can  use  it  all  the  same,”  said  Tom,  in 
an  insinuating  voice. 

“Yes,  I  can  be  dishonest  if  I  choose,  but  I 
don’t  choose.” 

“What  Sunday  School  do  you  go  to?” 
asked  Tom  with  a  sneer. 

“  None  at  present.” 


AN  ATTACK  IN  THE  DARK. 


31 


44  I  thought  you  did  by  your  talk.  It  makes 
me  sick  ! ” 

“Then,”  said  Luke  good-naturedly,  “  there 

is  no  need  to  listen  to  it.  I  am  afraid  you  are 

«/ 

not  likely  to  enjoy  my  company,  so  I  will  walk 
along.” 

Luke  kept  on  his  way,  leaving  Tom  smoking 
sullenly. 

“  That  feller’ s  a  fool !  ”  he  muttered,  in  a 
disgusted  tone. 

“  What  feller?” 

Tom  turned,  and  saw  his  friend  and  chum, 
Pat  O’Connor,  who  had  just  come  up. 

“  What  feller  ?  Why,  Luke  Walton,  of 
course.” 

“  What’s  the  matter  of  him  ?  ” 

“  He’s  got  five  dollars,  and  he  won’t  pay  me 
into  the  theater.” 

“  Where’ d  he  get  such  a  pile  of  money?  ” 
asked  Pat,  in  surprise. 

“A  gentleman  gave  it  to  him  for  a  paper, 
tellin’  him  to  bring  him  the  change  to-morrer.” 
4  4  Is  he  goin’  to  do  it  ?  ” 

44  Yes  ;  that’s  why  I  call  him  a  fool.” 

44 1  wish  you  and  I  had  his  chance,”  said 


LUKE  WALTON. 


32 

Pat  enviously.  “We’d  paint  the  town  red,  I 

guess.” 

Tom  nodded.  He  and  Pat  were  quite  agreed 
on  that  point. 

“  Where’s  Luke  goin’  ?  ”  asked  Pat. 

“  To  see  Jim  Norman.  Jim’s  sick  with  a 
cold.” 

“  What  time’s  he  cornin’  home  ?  ” 

“  I  don’t  know.  Why  ?  ” 

“Do  you  think  he’s  got  the  money  with 
him — the  five-dollar  bill  \  ” 

“  What  are  you  up  to  ?  ”  asked  Tom,  with  a 
quick  glance  at  his  companion. 

“  I  was  thinkin’  we  might  borrer  the  money,” 
answered  Pat,  with  a  grin. 

To  Tom  this  was  a  new  suggestion,  but  it  was 
favorably  received.  He  conferred  with  Pat  in 
a  low  tone,  and  then  the  two  sauntered  down  the 

street  in  the  direction  of  Jim  Norman’s  home. 
Meanwhile  we  will  follow  Luke. 

He  kept  on  till  he  reached  a  shabby  brick 
house,  which  had  once  seen  better  days,  but  so 
far  back  that  there  was  no  trace  of  them  left. 

-Jim  and  his  mother,  with  two  smaller  chil¬ 
dren,  occupied  two  small  rooms  on  the  top 


AN  ATTACK  IN  THE  DARK.  33 

floor.  Luke  had  been  there  before,  and  did 
not  stop  to  inquire  directions,  but  ascended 
the  stairs  till  he  came  to  Jim’s  room.  The 
door  was  partly  open,  and  he  walked  in. 

“  How’s  Jim,  Mrs.  Norman  %  ”  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Norman,  a  worn  and  weary  woman,  was 
washing  dishes  at  the  sink. 

“He’s  right  sick,  Luke,”  she  answered, 
turning  round,  and  recognizing  the  visitor. 
“  Ho  you  hear  him  cough  ?  ” 

From  a  small  inner  room  came  the  sound  of 
a  hard  and  rasping  cough. 

“How  are  you  feeling,  Jim  V ’  inquired  Luke, 
entering  and  taking  a  chair  at  the  bedside. 

“I  don’t  feel  any  better,  Luke,”  answered 
the  sick  boy,  his  face  lighting  up  with  pleasure 
as  he  recognized  his  friend.  “I’m  glad  you’ve 
come  to  see  me.” 

“  You’ve  got  a  hard  cough.” 

“  Yes ;  it  hurts  my  throat  when  I  cough, 
and  I  can’t  get  a  wink  of  sleep.” 

4  T  ve  brought  you  a  little  cough  medicine.  It 
was  some  we  happened  to  have  in  the  house.” 

44  Thank  you,  Luke.  You’re  a  good  friend 
to  me.  Give  me  some,  please.” 


3 


34 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  If  your  mother’ll  give  me  a  spoon,  I’ll 
pour  some  out.” 

When  the  medicine  was  taken,  the  boys 
began  to  talk. 

UI  ought  to  be  at  work,”  said  Jim,  sighing. 
“I  don’t  know  how  we’ll  get  along  if  I  don’t  get 
out  soon.  Mother  has  some  washing  to  do,  but 
it  isn’t  enough  to  pay  all  our  expenses.  I  used 
to  bring  in  seventy-five  cents  a  day,  and  that, 
with  what  mother  could  earn,  kept  us  along.” 

u  I  wish  I  were  rich  enough  to  help  you, 
Jim,  but  you  know  how  it  is.  All  I  can  earn 
I  have  to  carry  home.  My  mother  sews  for  a 
house  on  State  Street,  but  sewing  doesn’t  pay 
as  well  as  washing.” 

“  I  know  you’d  help  me  if  you  could,  Luke. 
You  have  helped  me  by  bringing  in  the  medi¬ 
cine,  and  it  does  me  good  to  have  you  call.” 

“  But  I  would  like  to  do  more.  I’ll  tell  you 
what  I  will  do.  I  know  a  rich  gentleman,  one 
of  my  customers.  I  am  to  call  upon  him  to¬ 
morrow.  I’ll  tell  him  about  you,  and  perhaps 
he  will  help  you.” 

“Any  help  would  be  acceptable,  Luke,  if 
you  don’t  mind  asking  him.” 


AN  ATTACK  IN  THE  DAEK. 


35 


“I  wouldn’t  like  to  ask  for  myself,  but  I 
don’t  mind  asking  for  you.” 

Luke  stayed  an  hour,  and  left  Jim  much 
brighter  and  more  cheerful  for  his  visit. 

When  he  went  out  into  the  street  it  was 
quite  dark,  although  the  moon  now  and  then 
peeped  out  from  behind  the  clouds  that  a 
brisk  breeze  sent  scurrying  across  the  sky. 
Having  a  siight  headache,  he  thought  he 
would  walk  it  off,  so  he  sauntered  slowly  in 
the  direction  of  the  business  portion  of  the  city. 

Walking  farther  than  he  intended,  he  found 
himself,  almost  before  he  was  aware,  crossing 
one  of  the  numerous  bridges  that  span  the 
river.  He  was  busy  with  thoughts  of  Jim,  and 
how  he  could  help  him,  and  did  not  notice 
that  two  boys  were  following  him  stealthily. 
It  was  a  complete  surprise  to  him  therefore 
when  they  rushed  upon  him,  and,  each  seizing 
an  arm,  rendered  him  helpless. 

Luke  was  not  long  left  in  doubt  as  to  their 
intentions. 

“Hand  over  what  money  you’ve  got,  and  be 
quick  about  it !  ”  demanded  one  of  the  boys  in 
a  hoarse  whisper. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW  LUKE  ESCAPED. 

HE  attack  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected 


JL  that  Luke  was  for  the  moment  incapable 
of  resistance,  though  in  general  quite  ready  to 
defend  himself.  It  was  not  till  he  felt  a  hand 
in  his  pocket  that  he  “  pulled  himself  to¬ 
gether,”  as  the  English  express  it,  and  began 
to  make  things  lively  for  his  assailants. 

“What  are  you  after?”  he  demanded. 
“  Do  you  want  to  rob  me  ?  ” 

“Give  us  the  money,  and  be  quick  about 


“How  do  you  know  I  have  any  money?” 
asked  Luke,  beginning  to  suspect  in  whose 
hands  he  was. 

“Never  mind  how!  Hand  over  that  five- 
dollar  bill,”  in  the  same  hoarse  whisper. 

“I  know  you  now.  You’re  Tom  Brooks,” 
said  Luke.  “  You’re  in  bad  business.” 

“No,  I’m  not  Tom  Brooks.”  It  was  Pat 


36 


HOW  LUKE  ESCAPED. 


37 


who  spoke  now.  “  Come,  we  have  no  time  to 
lose.  Stephen,  give  me  your  knife.’ ’ 

The  name  was  a  happy  invention  of  Pat’ s  to 
throw  Luke  off  the  scent.  He  was  not  himself 
acquainted  with  our  hero,  and  did  not  fear 
identification. 

“One  of  you  two  is  Tom  Brooks,”  said 
Luke  firmly.  “You’d  better  give  up  this 
attempt  at  highway  robbery.  If  I  summon  an 
officer  you’re  liable  to  a  long  term  of  imprison¬ 
ment.  I’ll  save  you  trouble  by  telling  you 
that  I  haven’t  any  money  with  me,  except  a 
few  pennies.” 

“  Where’s  the  five- dollar  bill  ?  ” 

It  was  Tom  who  spoke  now.  v 

“I  left  it  at  home  with  my  mother.  It’s 
lucky  I  did,  though  you  would  have  found  it 
hard  to  get  it  from  me.” 

“I  don’t  believe  it,”  said  Tom,  in  a  tone 
betraying  disappointment. 

“  You  may  search  me  if  you  like  ;  but  if  a 
policeman  comes  by  you’d  better  take  to  your 
heels.” 

The  boys  appeared  disconcerted. 

“Is  he  lying?”  asked  Pat. 


38 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“No,”  responded  Tom.  “He’d  own  up  if 
he  had  the  money.” 

“Thank  you  for  believing  me.  It  is  very 
evident  that  one  of  you  knows  me.  Good¬ 
night.  You’d  better  find  some  other  way  of 
getting  hold  of  money.” 

“  Wait  a  minute  !  Are  you  goin’  to  tell  on 
us?  It  wouldn’t  be  fair  to  Tom  Brooks.  He 
ain’t  here,  but  you  might  get  him  into 
trouble.” 

“I  shan’t  get  you  into  trouble,  Tom,  but 
I’m  afraid  you  bring  trouble  on  yourself.” 

Apparently  satisfied  with  this  promise,  the 
two  boys  slunk  away  in  the  darkness,  and 
Luke  was  left  to  proceed  on  his  way  un¬ 
molested. 

“I  wouldn’t  have  believed  that  of  Tom,” 
thought  Luke.  “Lin  sorry  it  happened.  If 
it  had  been  any  one  but  me,  and  a  cop  had 
come  by,  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  him. 
It’s  lucky  I  left  the  money  with  mother, 
though  I  don’t  think  they’d  have  got  it  at  any 
rate.” 

Luke  did  not  acquaint  his  mother  with  the 
attempt  that  had  been  made  to  rob  him.  He 


/ 

HOW  LUKE  ESCAPED.  39 

well  knew  that  it  would  have  made  her  very 
anxious  for  him  whenever  he  left  the  house. 
He  merely  told  of  his  visit,  and  of  the  sad 
plight  of  the  little  bootblack. 

“I  would  like  to  have  helped  him,  mother,” 
Luke  concluded.  “If  we  hadn’t  been  robbed 
of  that  money  that  father  sent  us — ” 

“We  could  afford  the  luxury  of  doing 
good,”  said  his  mother,  finishing  the  sentence 
for  him. 

Luke’s  face  darkened  with  justifiable  anger. 

“I  know  it  is  wrong  to  hate  any  one, 
mother,”  he  said;  “but  I  am  afraid  I  hate 
that  man  Thomas  Butler  whom  I  have  never 
seen.” 

“It  is  sometimes  hard  to  feel  like  a  Chris¬ 
tian,  Luke,”  said  his  mother. 

“This  man  must  be  one  of  the  meanest  of 
men.  No  doubt  he  is  living  in  luxury  while 
we  are  living  from  hand  to  mouth.  Suppose 
you  or  I  should  fall  sick  !  What  would  become 
of  us  %  ” 

“We  won’t  borrow  trouble,  Luke.  Let  us 
rather  thank  God  for  our  present  good  health. 
If  I  should  be  sick  it  would  not  be  as  serious 


40 


LUKE  WALTON. 


as  if  you  were  to  become  so,  for  you  earn  more 
than  twice  as  much  as  I  do.” 

4  4  It  ought  not  to  be  so,  mother,  for  you  work 
harder  than  I  do.” 

“When  I  get  a  sewing-machine  I  shall  be 
able  to  contribute  more  to  the  common  fund.” 

44 1  hope  that  will  be  soon.  Has  Bennie  gone 
to  bed  ?” 

44  Yes,  he  is  fast  asleep.” 

44 1  hope  fortune  will  smile  on  us  before  he  is 
much  older  than  I.  I  can’t  bear  the  idea  of 
sending  him  into  the  street  among  bad  boys.” 

44 1  have  been  accustomed  to  judge  of  the 
newsboys  by  my  son.  Are  there  many  bad 
boys  among  them  ?  ” 

“Many  of  them  are  honest,  hard-working 
boys,  but  there  are  some  black  sheep  among 
them.  I  know  one  boy  who  tried  to  commit 
highway  robbery,  stopping  a  person  whom  he 
had  seen  with  money.” 

44  Did  he  get  caught  %  ” 

44  No,  he  failed  of  his  purpose,  and  no  com¬ 
plaint  was  made  of  him,  though  his  intended 
victim  knew  who  his  assailant  was.” 

44 1  am  glad  of  that.  It  would  have  been 


HOW  LUKE  ESCAPED. 


41 


hard  for  his  poor  mother  if  he  had  been  con¬ 
victed  and  sent  to  prison.” 

This  Mrs.  Walton  said  without  a  suspicion 
that  it  was  Luke  whom  the  boy  had  tried  to  rob. 
When  Luke  heard  his  mother’s  comment  he  was 
glad  that  he  had  agreed  to  overlook  Tom’s  fault. 

The  next  morning  Luke  went  as  usual  to 
the  vicinity  of  the  Sherman  House,  and  began 
to  sell  papers.  He  looked  in  vain  for  Tom 
Brooks,  who  did  not  show  up. 

“  Where  is  Tom  Brooks  Vy  he  asked  of  one 
of  Tom's  friends. 

“Tom’s  goin’  to  try  another  place,”  said 
the  boy.  “He  says  there’s  too  many  news¬ 
boys  round  this  corner.  He  thinks  he  can  do 
better  somewheres  else.” 

“  Where  is  he  ?  Ho  you  know  ?  ” 

“  I  seed  him  near  the  corner  of  Dearborn,  in 
front  of  ‘The  Saratoga.’  ” 

“  The  Saratoga”  is  a  well-known  restaurant 
on  Dearborn  Street,  which  is  the  financial 
street  of  Chicago,  and  given  up  largely  to 
bankers,  brokers,  and  trust  companies. 

“Well,  I  hope  he’ll  make  out  well,”  said 
Luke. 


42 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Luke  had  the  five-dollar  bill  in  his  pocket, 
but  he  knew  that  it  was  too  early  for  the  of¬ 
fices  on  La  Salle  Street  to  be  ox3en.  He  de¬ 
cided  to  wait  till  about  ten  o’clock,  when  he 
might  be  reasonably  sure  to  find  Mr.  Afton. 

Luke's  stock  of  morning  papers  included 
the  Chicago  Tribune ,  the  Times ,  Herald  and 

Inter -Ocean.  He  seldom  disposed  of  his  en- 

% 

tire  stock  as  early  as  ten  o’clock,  but  this 
morning  another  newsboy  in  addition  to  Tom 
was  absent,  and  Luke  experienced  the  advan¬ 
tage  of  diminished  competition. 

As  he  sold  the  last  paj)er  the  clocks  struck  ten. 

4  4 1  think  it  will  do  for  me  to  go  to  Mr.  Af¬ 
ton’ s  office  now,”  thought  Luke.  44  If  I  don’t 
find  him  in  I  will  wait.” 

La  Salle  Street  runs  parallel  with  Clark.  It 
is  a  busy  thoroughfare,  and  contains  many 
buildings  cut  up  into  offices.  This  was  the 
case  with  Ho.  155. 

Luke  entered  the  building  and  scanned  the  di¬ 
rectory  on  either  side  of  the  door.  He  had  no  dif¬ 
ficulty  in  finding  the  name  of  Benjamin  Afton. 

He  had  to  go  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  for  Mr. 
Afton’ s  office  was  on  the  third  floor. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


MR.  AFTON’S  OFFICE. 

R.  AFTON’  S  office  was  of  unusual  size, 


JJVJL  and  fronted  on  La  Salle  Street.  As 
Luke  entered  he  observed  that  it  was  furnished 
better  than  the  ordinary  business  office. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  to  the  occupant  the  part  of 
wisdom  to  make  the  room  where  he  spent  so 
many  hours  of  his  time  as  comfortable  and 
even  as  luxurious  as  his  means  would  justify. 
On  the  floor  was  a  handsome  Turkey  carpet. 
The  desks  were  of  some  rich  dark  wood,  and 
the  chairs  were  as  costly  as  those  in  his  library. 
In  a  closed  bookcase  at  one  end  of  the  room, 
surmounted  by  bronze  statuettes,  was  a  full 
library  of  reference. 

At  one  desk  stood  a  tall  man,  perhaps  thirty- 
five,  with  red  hair  and  prominent  features.  At 
another  desk  was  a  young  fellow  of  eighteen, 
bearing  a  marked  resemblance  to  the  head 
bookkeeper.  There  was  besides  a  young  man 


43 


44 


LUKE  WALTON. 


of  perhaps  twenty-two,  sitting  at  a  table, 
apparently  filing  bills. 

44  Mr.  Afton  must  be  a  rich  man  to  have  such 
an  elegant  office,”  thought  Luke. 

The  red-haired  bookkeeper  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  look  up  to  see  who  had  entered  the 
office. 

44  Is  Mr.  Afton  in?”  Luke  asked  in  a  re¬ 
spectful  tone. 

The  bookkeeper  raised  his  eyes  for  a  moment, 
glanced  at  Luke  with  a  supercilious  air,  and 
said  curtly,  44  ISTo  !  ” 

44  Do  you  know  when  he  will  be  in  ?  ”  con¬ 
tinued  the  newsboy. 

4  4  Quite  indefinite.  What  is  your  business, 
boy?” 

44  My  business  is  with  Mr.  Afton,”  Luke 
answered. 

44 Humph!  is  it  of  an  important  nature?” 
asked  the  bookkeeper  with  a  sneer,  as  he  re¬ 
marked  the  plain,  well-worn  suit  of  the  young 
visitor. 

Luke  smiled. 

44  It  is  not  very  important,”  he  answered, 
44  but  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Afton  personally.” 


MR.  AFTON’S  OFFICE. 


45 


“  Whose  office  are  you  in  ?  ” 

“He  isn’t  in  any  office,  Uncle  Nathaniel,” 
put  in  the  red-haired  boy.  “  He  is  a  common 
newsboy.  I  see  him  every  morning  round  the 
Sherman  House.” 

“  Ha !  is  that  so  %  Boy,  we  don’ t  want  to  buy 
any  papers,  nor  does  Mr.  Afton,  I  am  sure. 
You  can  go.” 

As  the  bookkeeper  spoke  he  pointed  to  the 
door. 

“  I  have  no  papers  to  sell,”  said  Luke,  rather 
provoked  :  “but  I  come  here  on  business  with 
Mr.  Afton,  and  will  take  the  liberty  to  wait  till 
he  comes.” 

“  Oh,  my  eyes  !  Ain’t  he  got  cheek  \  ”  ejac¬ 
ulated  the  red-haired  boy.  “  I  say,  boy,  do 
you  black  boots  as  well  as  sell  papers  ?  ’  ’ 

“No,  I  don’t.” 

“  Some  of  the  newsboys  do.  I  thought,  per¬ 
haps,  you  had  got  a  job  to  black  Mr.  A f ton’s 
boots  every  morning.” 

Luke,  who  was  a  spirited  boy,  was  fast 
getting  angry. 

“I  don’t  want  to  interfere  with  you  in  any 
way,”  he  said. 


46 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  What  do  you  mean  ?”  demanded  the  red¬ 
headed  boy,  his  cheeks  rivaling  his  hair  in 
color. 

“I  thought  that  might  be  one  of  your 
duties.” 

“Why,  you  impudent  young  vagabond! 
Uncle  Nathaniel,  did  you  hear  that?  ” 

“  Boy,  you  had  better  go,”  said  the  book¬ 
keeper,  waving  his  hand. 

“  You  can  leave  your  card,”  added  Eustis 
Clark,  the  nephew. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  a  friend  of  Luke’s 
had  printed  and  given  him  a  dozen  cards  a  few 
days  previous,  and  he  had  them  in  his  pocket 
at  that  moment. 

“Thank  you  for  the  suggestion,”  he  said, 
and  walking  up  to  the  boy’ s  desk  he  deposited 
on  it  a  card  bearing  this  name  in  neat  script : 

Luke  Walton. 

“  Be  kind  enough  to  hand  that  to  Mr.  Afton,” 
he  said. 

Eustis  held  up  the  card,  and  burst  into  a 
guffaw. 

“Well,  I  never!”  he  ejaculated.  “No,  I 


MR.  AFTON’S  OFFICE. 


47 


never  did.  Mr.  Walton,  your  most  obedient,” 
lie  concluded,  with  a  ceremonious  bow. 

“The  same  to  you!”  said  Luke,  with  a 
smile. 

“I  never  saw  a  newsboy  put  on  such  airs 
before,”  he  said,  as  Luke  left  the  office.  “  Did 
you,  Uncle  Nathaniel  ?  Do  you  think  he  really 
had  any  business  with  the  boss  ?  ” 

“  Probably  he  wanted  to  supply  the  office 
with  papers.  Now  stop  fooling,  and  go  to 
work.” 

“They  didn’t  seem  very  glad  to  see  me,” 
thought  Luke.  “  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Afton  this 
morning,  or  he  may  think  that  I  have  not  kept 
my  word  about  the  money.” 

Luke  stationed  himself  in  the  doorway  at 
the  entrance  to  the  building,  meaning  to  inter¬ 
cept  Mr.  Afton  as  he  entered  from  the  street. 
•He  had  to  wait  less  than  ten  minutes.  Mr. 
Afton  smiled  in  instant  recognition  as  he  saw 
Luke,  and  seemed  glad  to  see  him. 

“I  am  glad  the  boy  justified  my  idea  of 
him,”  he  said  to  himself.  “I  would  have 
staked  a  thousand  dollars  on  his  honesty. 
Such  a  face  as  that  doesn’t  belong  to  a  rogue.” 


48 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“I  am  rather  late,”  he  said.  “Have  you 
been  here  long  ?  ’  ’ 

“Hot  very  long,  sir  ;  I  have  been  up  in  your 
office.” 

“Why  didn’t  you  sit  down  and  wait  for 
me  ?  ” 

“I  don’t  think  the  red-haired  gentleman 
cared  to  have  me.  The  boy  asked  me  to  lea  re 
my  card.” 

Mr.  Afton  looked  amused. 

“  And  did  you  %  ”  he  asked. 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Do  you  generally  carry  visiting-cards?” 
asked  Mr.  Afton,  in  some  surprise. 

“Well,  I  happened  to  have  some  with  me 
this  morning.” 

‘ '  Please  show  me  one.  So  your  name  is  Luke 
Walton  %  ”  he  added,  glancing  at  the  card. 

“Yes,  sir  ;  office  corner  Clark  and  Randolph 
streets.” 

“  I  will  keep  this  card  and  bear  it  in  mind.” 

“I  have  brought  your  change,  sir,”  said 
Luke,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

“You  can  come  upstairs,  and  pay  it  to  me  in 
the  office.  It  will  be  more  business-like.” 


MR.  AFTON’S  OFFICE. 


49 


Luke  was  glad  to  accept  the  invitation,  for  it 
would  prove  to  the  skeptical  office  clerks  that 
he  really  had  business  with  tlieir  employer. 

Eustis  Clark  and  liis  uncle  could  not  conceal 
their  surprise  when  they  saw  Luke  following 
Mr.  Afton  into  the  office. 

There  was  a  smaller  room  inclosed  at  one 
corner,  which  was  specially  reserved  for  Mr. 
Afton. 

u  Come  here,  Luke,”  said  he  pleasantly. 

Luke  followed  him  inside. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  four  dollars  and 
ninety-eight  cents,  and  laid  them  on  the  table 
behind  which  his  patron  had  taken  a  seat. 

“  Won’t  you  please  count  it,  and  see  if  it  is 
right  ?  ”  he  asked. 

“  I  can  see  that  it  is,  Luke.  I  am  afraid  I 
have  put  you  to  more  trouble  than  the  profit  on 
the  two  papers  I  bought  would  pay  for.” 

“  Hot  at  all,  sir.  Besides,  it’s  all  in  the  way 
of  business.  I  thank  you  for  putting  confi¬ 
dence  in  me.” 

u  I  thought  I  was  not  mistaken  in  you,  and 
the  result  shows  that  I  was  right.  My  boy,  I 
saw  that  you  had  an  honest  face.  I  am  sure 

4 


50 


LUKE  WALTON. 


that  the  thought  of  keeping  back  the  money 
never  entered  yo.ur  head.” 

“  No,  sir,  it  did  not,  though  one  of  the  news¬ 
boys  advised  me  to  keep  it.” 

“It  would  have  been  very  short-sighted  as  a 
matter  of  policy.  I  will  take  this  money,  but 
want  to  encourage  you  in  the  way  of  well¬ 
doing.” 

He  drew  from  his  vest-pocket  a  bill,  and  ex¬ 
tended  it  to  Luke. 

“  It  isn’t  meant  as  a  reward  for  honesty,  but 
only  as  a  mark  of  the  interest  I  have  begun  to 
feel  in  you.” 

“Thank  you,  sir,”  said  Luke;  and  as  he  took 
the  bill  he  started  in  surprise,  for  it  was 
ten  dollars. 

“Did  you  mean  to  give  me  as  much  as 
this  ?  ”  he  asked  doubtfully. 

“  How  much  is  it  ?  ” 

“Ten  dollars.” 

“  I  thought  it  was  five,  but  I  am  glad  it  is 
more.  Yes,  Luke,  you  are  very  welcome  to  it. 
Have  you  any  one  dependent  upon  you  %  ” 

“My  mother.  She  will  be  very  much  pleased.” 

“  That’s  right,  my  lad.  Always  look  out  for 


MR.  AFTON’S  OFFICE. 


51 


your  mother.  You  owe  her  a  debt  which  you 
can  never  repay.” 

“That  is  true,  sir.  But  I  would  like  to  use 
a  part  of  this  money  for  some  one  else.” 

“For  yourself  ?  ” 

“  Yo  ;  but  for  a  friend.” 

Then  he  told  in  simple  language  of  Jim 
Norman,  and  how  seriously  his  family  was 
affected  by  his  sickness  and  enforced  illness. 

“Jim  has  no  money  to  buy  medicines,”  he 
concluded.  “If  you  don’t  object,  Mr.  Afton, 
I  will  give  Jim’s  mother  half  this  money,  after 
buying  some  cough  medicine  out  of  it.” 

The  merchant  listened  with  approval. 

“I  am  glad,  Luke,  you  can  feel  for  others,” 
he  said,  “but  I  can  better  afford  to  help  your 
friend  than  you.  Here  is  a  five-dollar  bill.  Tell 
the  boy  it  is  from  a  friend,  and  if  he  should 
need  more  let  me  know.” 

“Thank  you,  sir,”  said  Luke,  fairly  radiant 
as  he  thought  of  Jim’s  delight.  “  I  won’t  take 
up  any  more  of  your  time,  but  will  bid  you 
good-morning.” 

Probably  Mr.  Afton  wished  to  give  his  clerk 
a  lesson,  for  he  followed  Luke  to  the  door  of 


52  LUKE  WALTOIv. 

the  outer  office,  and  shook  hands  cordially 
with  him,  saying  :  “  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you 
call  when  you  wish  to  see  me,  Luke  ;  ”  adding, 
“  I  may  possibly  have  some  occasional  work  for 
you  to  do.  If  so,  I  know  where  to  find  you.” 

“Thank  you,  sir.” 

“What’s  got  into  the  old  man  ?”  thought  Eus- 
tis  Clark.  4  ‘  He  treats  that  young  ragamuffin  as 
if  he  were  the  president  of  the  bank.  No  wonder 
the  boy  puts  on  airs,  and  carries  visiting-cards.” 

As  Mr.  Afton  returned  to  his  sanctum,  Eus- 
tus  said  with  a  grin,  holding  up  the  card  : 

“Mr.  Walton  left  his  card  for  you,  think¬ 
ing  you  might  not  be  in  in  time  to  see  him.” 

“  Give  it  to  me,  if  you  please,”  and  the  rich 
man  took  the  card  without  a  smile,  and  put  it 
into  his  vest-pocket,  not  seeming  in  the  least 
surprised. 

“Mr.  Walton  called  to  pay  me  some 
money,”  he  said,  gravely.  “Whenever  he 
calls  invite  him  to  wait  till  my  return.” 

“Well,  I  never  did!”  ejaculated  Eustis, 
rubbing  an  imaginary  mustache  in  his  perplex¬ 
ity.  “To  treat  a  common  newsboy  that  way  ! 
I  wonder  if  the  old  man’s  losing  his  intellect.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER. 

UKE  went  home  that  evening  in  high  spirits. 


IJ  The  gift  he  had  received  from  Mr.  Afton 
enabled  him  to  carry  out  a  plan  he  had  long  de¬ 
sired  to  realize,  but  had  been  prevented  from  so 
doing  by  poverty.  It  was  to  secure  a  sewing- 
machine  for  his  mother,  and  thus  increase  her 
earnings  while  diminishing  her  labors.  He 
stopped  at  an  establishment  not  far  from  Clark 
Street,  and  entering  the  show-room,  asked: 
4  ‘What  is  the  price  of  your  sewing-machines  ?  ’  ’ 

“One  in  a  plain  case  will  cost  you  twenty- 
five  dollars.” 

“  Please  show  me  one.” 

“  Do  you  want  it  for  your  wife  ?  ”  asked  the 
salesman,  smiling 

“She  may  use  it  some  time.  My  mother 
will  use  it  first.” 


The  salesman  pointed  out  an  instrument 

with  which  Luke  was  well  pleased. 

53 


54 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Would  you  like  to  see  how  it  works  r(  ” 

u  Yes,  please.” 

“  Miss  Morris,  please  show  this  young  man 
how  to  operate  the  machine.” 

In  the  course  of  ten  minutes  Luke  got  a  fair 
idea  of  the  method  of  operating. 

“  Do  you  require  the  whole  amount  down  ?  ” 
asked  Luke, 

“  Yo  ;  we  sell  by  installments,  if  preferred.” 

“  What  are  your  terms  ?  ” 

“  Five  dollars  first  payment,  and  then  a  dol¬ 
lar  a  week,  with  interest  on  the  balance  till 
paid.  Of  course  a  customer  is  at  liberty  to 
shorten  the  time  of  payment  if  he  prefers.” 

“Then  I  think  I  will  engage  one,”  Luke  de¬ 
cided. 

“Very  well!  Come  up  to  the  desk,  and 
give  me  your  name  and  address.  On  pay¬ 
ment  of  five  dollars,  we  will  give  you  a  receipt 
on  account,  specifying  the  terms  of  paying  the 
balance,  etc.” 

Luke  transacted  his  business,  and  made  ar¬ 
rangements  to  have  the  machine  delivered  any 
time  after  six  o’clock,  when  he  knew  he  would 
be  at  home. 


55 

“ That’s  a  good  job,”  lie  said  to  himself. 
“  And  the  best  of  it  is,  I’ve  got  five  dollars 
left,  to  fall  back  upon  in  case  of  bad  luck.  It 
will  pay  five  weeks’  installments,  if  I  don’t 
succeed  in  saving  enough  in  any  other  way.” 

As  Luke  was  coming  out  of  the  sewing-ma¬ 
chine  office  he  saw  Tom  Brooks  just  passing. 
Tom  looked  a  little  uneasy,  not  feeling  certain 
whether  Luke  had  recognized  him  as  one  of 
his  assailants  or  not  the  evening  previous. 

Luke  felt  that  he  had  a  right  to  be  angry. 
Indeed  lie  had  it  in  his  power  to  have  Tom  ar¬ 
rested,  and  charged  with  a  very  serious  crime — 
that  of  highway  robbery.  But  his  good  luck 
made  him  good-natured. 

“  Good-evening,  Tom,”  he  said.  “I  didn’t 
see  you  selling  papers  to-day.” 

“  No  ;  I  was  on  Dearborn  Street.” 

“He  doesn’t  know  it  was  me,”  thought 
Tom,  congratulating  himself.  “Have  you 
been  buying  a  sewing-machine?  ” 

This  was  said  in  joke. 

“Yes,”  answered  Luke,  considerably  to 
Tom’s  surprise.  “  I  have  bought  one.” 

“  How  much  ?  ” 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER. 


56 


LUKE  WALTON. 


4 4 Twenty-five  dollars.” 

44  Where  did  you  raise  twenty-five  dollars? 
You’re  foolin’.” 

44 1  bought  it  on  the  installment  plan.  I 
paid  five  dollars  down.” 

44  Oho!”  said  Tom,  nodding  significantly. 
44 1  know  where  you  got  that  money.” 

44  Where  did  I  ?  ” 

44  From  the  gentleman  who  bought  a  couple 
of  papers  yesterday.” 

44  You’ve  hit  it  right  the  first  time.” 

44 1  thought  you  weren’t  no  better  than  the 
rest  of  us — you  that  pretended  to  be  so  extra 
honest.” 

44  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Tom 
Brooks  ?  ” 

44  You  pretended  that  you  were  going  to 
give  back  the  man’s  change,  and  spent  it  after 
all.  I  thought  you  weren’t  such  a  saint  as 
you  pretended  to  be.” 

44 1  see  you  keep  on  judging  me  by  yourself, 
Tom  Brooks.  I  took  round  the  money  this 
morning,  and  he  gave  it  to  me.” 

44  Is  that  true?  ” 

44  Yes ;  I  generally  tell  the  truth.” 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER. 


57 


“  Then  you’re  lucky.  If  I’d  returned  it,  he 
wouldn’t  have  given  me  a  cent.” 

“  It’s  best  to  be  honest  on  all  occasions ,” 
said  Luke,  looking  significantly  at  Tom,  who 

colored  up,  for  he  now  saw  that  he  had  been 

\  * 

recognized  the  night  before. 

Tom  sneaked  off  on  some  pretext,  and  Luke 
kept  on  his  way  home. 

“  Did  you  do  well  to-day,  Luke?”  asked 
Bennie. 

“  Yes,  Bennie,  very  well.” 

“  Hotw  much  did  you  make  ?  ” 

“  I’ll  tell  you  by  and  by.  Mother,  can  I  help 
you  about  the  supper  ?  ” 

“  You  may  toast  the  bread,  Luke.  I  am 
going  to  have  your  favorite  dish  —  milk 
toast.” 

“All  right,  mother.  Have  you  been  sewing 
to-day  ?  ” 

“  Yes,  Luke.  I  sat  so  long  in  one  position 
that  I  got  cramped.” 

“  I  wish  you  had  a  sewing-machine.” 

“So do  I,  Luke  ;  but  I  must  be  patient.  A 
sewing-machine  costs  more  money  than  we  can 
afford.” 


58 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“One  can  be  got  for  twenty-five  dollars,  I 
liave  heard.” 

\ 

4  4  That  is  a  good  deal  of  money  to  people  in 
our  position.” 

44  We  may  as  well  hoj^e  for  one.  I  shouldn’t 
be  surprised  if  we  were  able  to  buy  a  sewing- 
machine  very  soon.” 

Meanwhile  Luke  finished  toasting  the  bread, 
and  his  mother  was  dipping  it  in  milk  when  a 
rapid  step  was  heard  on  the  stairway,  the  door 
was  unceremoniously  opened,  and  Nancy’s  red 
head  was  thrust  into  the  room. 

“Please,  Mrs.  Walton,”  said  Nancy,  breath¬ 
less,  44  there’s  a  man  downstairs  with  a  sewing- 
machine  which  he  says  is  for  you.” 

4  4  There  must  be  some  mistake,  Nancy.  I 
haven’t  ordered  any  sewing-machine.” 

4  4  Shall  I  send  him  off,  ma’  am  ?  ’  ’ 

4  4  No,  Nancy,”  said  Luke;  44  it’s  all  right. 
Pll  go  downstairs  and  help  him  bring  it  up.” 

44  How  is  this,  Luke  ?  ”  asked  Mrs.  Walton, 
bewildered. 

44  I’ll  explain  afterwards,  mother.” 

Up  the  stairway  and  into  the  room  came  the 
sewing-machine,  and  was  set  down  near  the 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER. 


59 


window.  Bennie  surveyed  it  with  wonder  and 
admiration. 

When  the  man  who  brought  it  was  gone, 
Luke  explained  to  his  mother  how  it  had  all 
come  about. 

“  You  see,  mother,  you  didn’t  have  to  wait 
long,”  he  concluded. 

“I  feel  deeply  thankful,  Luke,”  said  Mrs. 
Walton.  “I  can  do  three  times  the  work  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  do,  and  in  much  less 
time.  This  Mr.  Afton  must  be  a  kind  and 
charitable  man.” 

“I  like  him  better  then  his  clerks,”  said 
Luke.  4  ‘  There  is  a  red-headed  bookkeeper  and 
boy  there  who  tried  to  snub  me,  and  keep  me 
out  of  the  office.  I  try  to  think  well  of  red¬ 
headed  people  on  account  of  ISTancy,  but  I  can’t 
say  I  admire  them.” 

After  supper  Luke  gave  his  mother  a  lesson 
in  operating  the  machine.  Both  found  that  it 
required  a  little  practice,  but  Mrs.  Walton  felt 
sure  that  in  a  day  or  two  she  would  become 
familiar  with  its  use. 

The  next  morning,  as  Luke  was  standing  at 
his  usual  corner,  he  had  a  surprise. 


60 


LUKE  WALTON. 


A  gentleman  came  out  of  the  Sherman  House 
and  walked  slowly  up  Clark  Street.  As  he 
passed  Luke,  he  stopped  and  asked,  4  ‘Boy,  have 
you  got  the  Inter -Ocean  f  ” 

Luke  naturally  looked  up  in  his  customer’s 
>  ^ 
face  while  he  wras  picking  out  the  paper.  He 

paused  in  the  greatest  excitement. 

The  man  was  on  the  shady  side  of  fifty, 
nearly  six  feet  in  height,  with  a  dark  com¬ 
plexion,  hair  tinged  with  gray,  and  a  wart  on 
the  upper  part  of  his  right  cheek  ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  MARKED  MAK. 

T  last,  so  Luke  verily  believed,  he  stood 


jlA_  face  to  face  with  the  man  who  had 
deceived  his  dying  father,  and  defrauded  his 
mother  and  himself  of  a  sum  which  would 
wholly  change  their  positions  and  prospects. 
But  he  wanted  to  know  positively,  and  he  could 
not  think  of  a  way  to  acquire  this  knowledge. 

Meanwhile  the  gentleman  noticed  the  boy’s 
scrutiny,  and  it  did  not  please  him. 

“  Well,  boy!  ”  he  said,  gruffly,  “  you  seem 
determined  to  know  me  again.  You  stare 
hard  enough.  Let  me  tell  you  this  is  not  good 
manners.” 

“ Excuse  me,”  said  Luke,  “but  your  face 
looked  familiar  to  me.  I  thought  I  had  seen 
you  before.” 

u  Very  likely  you  have.  I  come  to  Chicago 
frequently,  and  generally  stop  at  the  Sherman 
House.” 


61 


/ 


62  LXJKE  WALTON. 

“  Probably  that  explains  it,”  said  Luke. 
“  Are  you  not  Mr.  Thomas,  of  St.  Louis  \  ” 

The  gentleman  laughed. 

“  You  will  have  to  try  again,”  he  said.  u  I 
am  Mr.  Browning,  of  Milwaukee.  Thomas  is 
my  first  name.” 

“  Browning !  ”  thought  Luke,  disappointed. 
“  Evidently  I  am  on  the  wrong  tack.  And  yet 
he  answers  father’s  description  exactly.” 

“  I  don’t  know  any  one  in  Milwaukee,”  he 
said,  aloud. 

“  Then  it  appears  we  can’t  claim  acquaint¬ 
ance.” 

The  gentleman  took  his  papers  and  turned 
down  Randolph  Street  toward  State. 

“  Strange!”  he  soliloquized,  “that  boy’s 
interest  in  my  personal  appearance.  I  wonder 
if  there  can  be  a  St.  Louis  man  who  resembles 
me.  If  so,  he  can’t  be  a  very  good-looking 
man.  This  miserable  wart  ought  to  be  enough 
to  distinguish  me  from  any  one  else.” 

He  paused  a  minute,  and  then  a  new 
thought  came  into  his  mind. 

“There’s  something  familiar  in  that  boy’s 
lace.  I  wonder  who  he  can  be.  I  will  buy  my 


A  MARKED  MAM. 


63 


evening  papers  of  him,  and  take  that  oppor¬ 
tunity  to  inquire.55 

Meanwhile  Luke,  to  satisfy  a  doubt  in  his 
mind,  entered  the  hotel,  and  going  up  to  the 
office,  looked  over  the  list  of  arrivals.  He  had 
to  turn  back  a  couple  of  pages,  and  found  this 
entry : 

“Thomas  Browning,  Milwaukee. 5 * 

“  His  name  is  Browning,  and  he  does  come 
from  Milwaukee/’  he  said  to  himself.  “I 
thought,  perhaps,  he  might  have  given  me  a 
false  name,  though  he  could  have  no  reason 
for  doing  so.” 

Luke  felt  that  he  must  look  farther  for  the 
man  who  had  betrayed  his  father’s  confidence. 

“  I  didn’t  think  there  could  be  two  men  of 
such  a  peculiar  appearance,”  he  reflected. 
“  Surely  there  can’t  be  three.  If  I  meet 
another  who  answers  the  description  I  shall  be 
convinced  that  he  is  the  man  I  am  after.” 

In  the  afternoon  the  same  man  approached 
Luke,  as  he  stood  on  his  accustomed  corner. 

“You  may  give  me  the  Mail  and  Journal 
he  said. 


64 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Yes,  sir  ;  liere  they  are.  Three  cents.” 

“  I  believe  you  are  the  boy  who  recognized 
me,  or  thought  you  did,  this  morning  \  ” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

g  ‘  If  you  ever  run  across  this  Mr.  Thomas,  of 
St.  Louis,  present  him  my  compliments,  will 
you  ?  ” 

“  Yres,  sir,”  answered  Luke,  with  a  smile. 

“  By  the  way,  what  is  your  name  ?  ” 

“Luke  Walton.” 

The  gentleman  started. 

“  Luke  Walton  !  ”  he  repeated  slowly,  eye¬ 
ing  the  newsboy  with  still  closer  scrutiny. 

“  Yes,  sir.” 

“  It  is  a  new  name  to  me.  Can’t  your  father 
find  a  better  business  for  you  than  selling 
papers  \  ’  ’ 

“  My  father  is  dead,  sir.” 

“Dead!  ”  repeated  Browning,  slowly. 
“That  is  unfortunate  for  you.  How  long 
has  he  been  dead  %  ’  ’ 

“  About  two  years.” 

“  Of  what  did  he  die  ?  ” 

“  I  don’t  know,  sir,  exactly.  He  died  away 
from  home — in  California.” 


A  MARKED  MAN. 


65 


There  was  a  strange  look,  difficult  to  read, 
on  the  gentleman’ s  face. 

44  That  is  a  long  way  off,”  he  said.  44  I  have 
always  thought  I  should  like  to  visit  Califor¬ 
nia.  I  have  often  promised  myself  that  pleas¬ 
ure.  When  my  business  will  permit  I  will 
take  a  trip  out  that  way.” 

Here  was  another  difference  between  Mr. 
Browning  and  the  man  of  whom  Luke’s  father 
had  written.  The  stranger  had  never  been  in 
California. 

Browning  handed  Luke  a  silver  quarter  in 
payment  for  the  papers. 

“  Never  mind  about  the  change,”  he  said, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand* 

44  Thank  you,  sir.  You  are  very  kind.” 

If  Luke  could  have  divined  the  thoughts  of 
the  man  who  had  treated  him  thus  generously, 
he  would  have  felt  less  grateful. 

4  4  That  must  be  the  son  of  my  old  California 
friend,”  Browning  said  to  himself.  44  Can  he 
have  heard  of  the  money  intrusted  to  me  ?  I 
don’t  think  it  possible,  for  I  left  Walton  on 
the  verge  of  death.  That  money  has  made  my 
fortune.  I  invested  it  in  land  which  has  more 


5 


66 


LUKE  WALTON. 


than  quadrupled  in  value.  Old  women  say  that 
honesty  pays,”  he  added  with  a  snee'r,  “  but 
it  is  nonsense.  In  this  case  dishonesty  has 
paid  me  richly.  If  the  boy  has  heard  any¬ 
thing,  it  is  lucky  that  I  changed  my  name  to 
Browning  out  of  deference  to  my  wife’s  aunt, 
in  return  for  a  beggarly  three  thousand  dollars. 
However,  I  have  made  it  up  to  ten  thousand 
by  judicious  investment.  My  young  newsboy 
acquaintance  will  find  it  hard  to  identify  me 
with  the  Thomas  Butler  who  took  charge  of 
his  father’s  money.” 

If  Browning  had  been  possessed  of  con¬ 
science  it  might  have  troubled  him  when  he 
was  brought  face  to  face  with  one  of  the  suf¬ 
ferers  from  his  crime;  but  he  was  a  hard,  sel¬ 
fish  man,  to  whom  his  own  interests  were  of 
supreme  importance.  There  are  many  such 
men,  unfortunately,  who,  without  compunc¬ 
tion,  build  up  their  own  fortunes  on  the  suffer¬ 
ings  and  losses  of  widows  and  orphans. 

Even  to  Thomas  Browning  there  came  the 
thought :  u  If  I  could  give  the  boy  fifty  dollars 
without  arousing  his  suspicions  I  would  do  so. 
But,  after  all,  he  is  getting  on  well  enough.  I 


A  MARKED  MAN. 


67 


have  heard  that  these  newsboys  make  a  good 
deal  of  money.  I  had  better  let  well  enough 
alone.  As  long  as  they  don’t  know  of  the 
money,  they  won’t  regret  its  loss.” 

In  this  way  Browning  quieted  the  slight 
protest  of  his  almost  callous  conscience,  and 
no  longer  allowed  himself  to  be  annoyed  by 
the  thought  of  the  family  he  had  cruelly 
wronged. 

“He’ll  never  know  it,  and  I  needn’t  allow  it 
to  disturb  me,”  was  his  final  conclusion. 

But  something  happened  within  an  hour 
which  gave  him  a  feeling  of  anxiety. 

He  was  just  coming  out  of  the  Chicago  Post 
Office,  at  the  corner  of  Adams  and  Clark 
streets,  when  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his 
shoulder. 

“How  are  you,  Butler?”  said  a  tall  man, 
wearing  a  Mexican  sombrero.  “I  haven’t  set 
eyes  upon  you  since  we  were  together  at  Gold 
Gulch,  in  California.” 

Browning  looked  about  him  apprehensively. 
Fortunately  he  was  some  distance  from  the 
corner  where  Luke  Walton  was  selling  papers. 

“  I  am  well,  thank  you,”  he  said. 


68 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Are  you  living  in  Chicago  ?  ” 

“No  ;  I  live  in  Wisconsin.” 

“Have  von  seen  anything  of  the  man  you 
used  to  be  with  so  much — Walton?” 

“No;  he  died.” 

“  Did  he,  indeed  ?  Well,  I  am  sorry  to  hear 

that.  He  was  a  good  fellow.  Did  he  leave 
« 

anything  ?  ” 

“I  am  afraid  not.” 

“  I  thought  he  struck  it  rich.” 

“  So  he  did  ;  but  he  lost  all  he  made.” 

“  How  was  that  ?  ” 

“  Poor  investments,  I  fancy.” 

“I  remember  he  told  me  one  day  that  he 
had  scraped  together  seven  or  eight  thousand 
dollars.” 

Browning  shrugged  his  shoulders.  “I  think 
that  was  a  mistake,”  he  said.  “  Walton  liked 
to  put  his  best  foot  foremost.” 

“You  think,  then,  he  misrepresented?” 

“  I  think  he  would  have  found  it  hard  to 
find  the  sum  you  mention.” 

“  You  surprise  me,  Butler.  I  always  looked 
upon  Walton  as  a  singularly  reliable  man.” 
“So  he  was — in  most  things.  But  let  me 


A  MARKED  MAN. 


69 


correct  you  on  one  point.  You  call  me  But¬ 
ler.” 

“Isn’t  that  your  name  ?  ” 

1  ‘  It  was,  but  I  had  reason— a  good,  substan¬ 
tial,  pecuniary  reason — for  changing  it.  I  am 
now  Thomas  Browning.” 

“Say  you  so?  Well,  I  don’t  say  but  I 
would  change  my  own  if  some  one  would  pay 
me  for  doing  so.  Are  you  engaged  this  even¬ 
ing  ?  ” 

‘  ‘  Yes,  unfortunately.  ’  ’ 

“I  was  about  to  invite  you  to  some  theater.” 

“  Another  time — thanks.” 

“I  must  steer  clear  of  that  man,”  thought 
Browning.  “  He  is  one  of  the  few  who  knew 
me  in  California.  I  won’ t  meet  him  again  if  I 
can  help  it.” 


CHAPTER  IX. 


STEPHEN  WEBB. 

THE  more  Browning  tliouglit  of  the  news¬ 
boy  in  whom  he  had  so  strangely  recog¬ 
nized  the  son  of  the  man  whom  he  had  so 
cruelly  wronged,  the  more  uneasy  he  felt, 

“He  has  evidently  heard  of  me,”  he  solilo¬ 
quized.  “  His  father  could  not  have  been  so 
near  death  as  I  supposed.  He  must  have  sent 
the  boy  or  his  mother  a  message  about  that 
money.  If  it  should  come  to  his  knowledge 
that  I  am  the  Thomas  Butler  to  whom  his 
father  confided  ten  thousand  dollars  which  I 
have  failed  to  hand  over  to  the  family,  he  may 
make  it  very  disagreeable  for  me.” 

The  fact  that  so  many  persons  were  able  to 
identify  him  as  Thomas  Butler  made  the  dan¬ 
ger  more  imminent.  . 

UI  must  take  some  steps — but  what?” 
Browning  asked  himself. 

He  kept  on  walking  till  he  found  himself 

70 


STEPHEN  WEBB. 


71 


passing  the  entrance  to  a  low  pool-room.  He 
never  played  pool,  nor  would  it  have  suited  a 
man  of  his  social  position  to  enter  such  a 
place,  but  that  he  caught  sight  of  a  young  man, 
whose  face  and  figure  were  familiar  to  him,  in 
the  act  of  going  into  it.  He  quickened  his  pace, 
and  laid  a  hand  on  the  young  man’s  shoulder. 

The  latter  turned  quickly,  revealing  a  face 
bearing  the  unmistakable  marks  of  dissipation. 

“Uncle  Thomas!”  he  exclaimed,  appar¬ 
ently  ill  at  ease. 

“Yes,  Stephen,  it  is  I.  Where  are  you 
going  %  ” 

The  young  man  hesitated. 

“  You  need  not  answer.  I  see  you  are  wed¬ 
ded  to  your  old  amusements.  Are  you  still  in 
the  place  I  got  for  you  ?  ” 

Stephen  Webb  looked  uneasy  and  shame¬ 
faced. 

“I  have  lost  my  place,”  he  answered,  after 
a  pause. 

“How  does  it  happen  that  you  have  lost 
it  ?  ”  asked  his  uncle  sternly. 

“  I  don’t  know.  Some  one  must  have  prej¬ 
udiced  my  employer  against  me.” 


72 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  It  is  your  own  habits  that  have  prejudiced 
him,  I  make  no  doubt.  ” 

This  was  true.  One  morning  Stephen,  whose 
besetting  sin  was  intemperance,  appeared  at 
the  office  where  he  was  employed  in  such  a 
state  of  intoxication  that  he  was  summarily 
discharged.  '  It  may  be  explained  that  he  was 
a  son  of  Mr.  Browning’s  only  sister. 

“When  were  you  discharged?”  asked  his 
uncle. 

“  Last  week.” 

“And  have  you  tried  to  get  another  situa¬ 
tion  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

“  What  are  your  prospects  of  success  ?  ” 

“  There  seem  to  be  very  few  openings  just 
now,  Uncle  Thomas.” 

“  The  greater  reason  why  you  should  have 
kept  the  place  I  obtained  for  you.  Were  you 
going  to  play  pool  in  this  low  place?” 

“  I  was  going  to  look  on.  A  man  must  have 
some  amusement,”  said  Stephen  sullenly. 

“Amusement  is  all  you  think  of.  However, 
it  so  happens  that  I  have  something  for  you  to 
do.” 


STEPHEN  WEBB. 


73 


« 


Stephen  regarded  his  uncle  in  surprise. 

“Are  you  going  to  open  an  office  in 
Chicago  1  ”  he  asked. 

“No;  the  service  is  of  a  different  nature. 
It  is — secret  and  confidential.  It  is,  I  may 
say,  something  in  the  detective  line.” 

“Then  I’m  your  man,”  said  his  nephew, 
brightening  up. 

“The  service  is  simple,  so  that  you  will  prob¬ 
ably  be  qualified  to  do  what  I  require.” 

“I’ve  read  lots  of  detective  stories,”  said 
Stephen  eagerly.  “It’s  just  the  work  I 
should  like.” 

“Humph!  I  don’t  think  much  is  to  be 
learned  from  detective  stories.  You  will 
understand,  of  course,  that  you  are  not  to  let 
any  one  know  you  are  acting  for  me.” 

“  Certainly.  You  will  find  that  I  can  keep 
a  secret.” 

“I  leave  Chicago  to-morrow  morning,  and 
will  give  you  directions  before  I  go.  Where 
can  we  have  a  private  conference  \  ’  ’ 

“Here  is  an  oyster-liouse.  We  shall  be 
quiet  here.” 

“  Yery  well !  We  will  go  in.” 


74 


LUKE  WALTON. 


i 


They  entered  a  small  room,  with  a  sanded 
floor,  provided  with  a  few  nnpainted  tables. 
It  seemed  quiet  enough,  for  there  were  only 
two  guests  present,  seated  at  a  table  near  the 
front. 

Stephen  and  his  uncle  went  to  the  back  of 
the  room,  and  seated  themselves  at  the  rear 
table. 

“  We  must  order  something/’  suggested 
Stephen. 

“  Get  what  you  please,”  said  Browning, 
indifferently. 

“Two  stews  !”  ordered  Stephen.  “We  can 
talk  while  they  are  getting  them  ready.” 

“Very  well!  Now  for  my  instructions. 
At  the  corner  of  Clark  and  Randolph  streets 
every  morning  and  evening  you  will  find  a 
newsboy  selling  papers.” 

“  A  dozen,  you  mean.” 

“  True,  but  I  am  going  to  describe  this  boy 
so  that  you  may  know  him.  He  is  about 
fifteen,  I  should  judge,  neatly  dressed,  and 
would  be  considered  good-looking.” 

“  Do  you  know  his  name  ?  ” 

“  Yes,  it  is  Luke  Walton.” 


I 


STEPHEN  WEBB.  75 

“  Is  he  the  one  I  am  to  watch  ?  ” 

“You  are  to  make  his  acquaintance,  and 
find  out  all  you  can  about  his  circumstances.’ ’ 
“  Do  you  know  where  he  lives  1  ” 

“  No  ;  that  is  one  of  the  things  you  are  to 
find  out  for  me.” 

“  What  else  do  you  want  me  to  find  out  ?  ” 
“Find  out  how  many  there  are  in  the  family, 
also  how  they  live  ;  whether  they  have  anything 
to  live  on  except  what  this  newsboy  earns.” 

“All  right,  Uncle  Thomas.  You  seem  to 
have  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  this  boy.” 

“That  is  my  business,”  said  Browning, 
curtly.  “If  you  wish  to  work  for  me,  you 
must  not  show  too  much  curiosity.  Never 
mind  what  my  motives  are.  Do  you  under¬ 
stand  1” 

“Certainly,  Uncle  Thomas.  It  shall  be  as 
you  say.  I  suppose  I  am  to  be  paid  \  ’  ’ 

“Yes.  How  much  salary  did  you  receive 
where  you  were  last  employed  \  ’ 1 
“  Ten  dollars  a  week.” 

“You  shall  receive  this  sum  for  the  present. 
It  is  very  good  pay  for*  the  small  service 
required.” 


76 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“All  right,  Uncle.” 

The  stews  were  ready  by  this  time.  They 
were  brought  and  set  before  Stephen  and  his 
uncle.  The  latter  toyed  with  his  spoon,  only 
taking  a  taste  or  two,  but  Stephen  showed 
much  more  appreciation  of  the  dish,  not  being 
accustomed  like  his  uncle  to  dining  at  first- 
class  hotels. 

“How  am  I  to  let  you  know  what  I  find 
out  %  ’  ’  asked  Stephen. 

“Write  to  me  at  Milwaukee.  I  will  send 
you  further  instructions  from  there.” 

“Very  well,  sir.” 

“Oh,  by  the  way,  you  are  never  to  men¬ 
tion  me  to  this  Luke  Walton.  I  have  my 
reasons.” 

“  I  will  do  just  as  you  say.” 

“  How  is  your  mother,  Stephen  ?” 

“About  the  same.  She  isn’t  a  very  cheer¬ 
ful  party,  you  know.  She  is  always  fretting.” 

“  Has  she  any  lodgers  ?  ” 

“Yes,  three,  but  one  is  a  little  irregular 
with  his  rent.” 

“Of  course  I  expect  that  you  will  hand 
your  mother  half  the  weekly  sum  I  pay  you. 


STEPHEN  WEBB. 


77 


She  has  the  right  to  expect  that  much  help 
from  her  son.” 

Stephen  assented,  but  not  with  alacrity,  and 
as  he  had  now  disposed  of  the  stew,  the  two 
rose  from  their  seats  and  went  outside.  A 
few  words  of  final  instructions,  and  they 
parted. 

“I  wonder  why  Uncle  Thomas  takes  such  an 
interest  in  that  newsboy,”  thought  Stephen. 
“  I  will  make  it  my  business  to  find  out.” 


CHAPTER  X. 


STEPHEN  WEBB  OBTAINS  SOME  INFORMATION. 

UKE  was  at  liis  post  the  following  morn- 


J— i  ing,  and  had  disposed  of  half  his  papers 
when  Stephen  Webb  strolled  by.  He  walked 
past  Luke,  and  then,  as  if  it  was  an  after¬ 
thought,  turned  back,  and  addressed  him  : 

“Have  you  a  morning  Tribune  t”  he  asked. 

Luke  produced  it. 

“How’s  business  to-day?”  asked  Stephen, 
in  an  off-hand  manner. 

“Pretty  fair,”  answered  Luke,  for  the  first 
time  taking  notice  of  the  inquirer,  who  did  not 
impress  him  very  favorably. 

‘  ‘  I  have  often  wondered  how  you  newsboys 
make  it  pay,”  said  Stephen,  in  a  sociable  tone. 

“We  don't  make  our  fortunes  as  a  rule,” 
answered  Luke,  smiling,  “so  I  can’t  recom¬ 
mend  you  to  go  into  it.” 

“I  don't  think  it  would  suit  me.  I  don’t 
mind  owning  up  that  I  am'  lazy.  But  then  I 


78 


STEPHEN  WEBB  OBTAINS  INFOKMATION.  79 

am  not  obliged  to  work — for  the  present,  at 
least.” 

Lake  eyed  him  with  curiosity.  He  did  not 
look  like  a  young  man  of  means,  and  his  suit 
was  almost  shabby,  but  he  spoke  as  if  he  was 

/  i 

able  to  live  without  work. 

“  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  live  without 
work,”  said  the  newsboy.  “  But  even  then  I 
would  find  something  to  do.  I  should  not  be 
happy  if  I  were  idle.” 

“I  am  not  wholly  without  work,”  said 
Stephen.  “My  uncle,  who  lives  at  a  distance, 
occasionally  sends  to  me  to  do  something  for 
him.  I  have  to  hold  myself  subject  to  his 
orders.  In  the  mean  time  I  get  an  income  from 
him.  How  long  have  you  been  a  newsboy  %  ” 

“  Nearly  two  years.” 

“Do  you  like  it?  Why  don’t  you  get  a 
place  in  a  store  or  an  office  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  should  like  to,  if  I  could  make  enough  ; 

X 

but  boys  get  very  small  salaries.” 

“  I  was  about  to  offer  to  look  for  a  place  for 
you.  I  know  some  men  in  business.” 

“  Thank  you  !  You  are  very  kind,  consider¬ 
ing  that  we  are  strangers.” 


so 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Oh,  well,  I  can  judge  of  you  by  your  looks, 
I  shouldn’t  be  afraid  to  recommend  you.” 

Luke  felt  that  it  was  ungracious,  but  it  oc¬ 
curred  to  him  that  he  could  hardly  say  as  much 
for  his  companion,  whose  face  had  a  dissipated 
look. 

“Thank  you!”  he  replied;  “but  unless 
you  could  offer  me  as  much  as  five  dollars  a 
week,  I  should  feel  obliged  to  keep  on  selling 
papers.  I  not  only  have  myself  to  look  out 
for,  but  a  mother  and  little  brother.” 

Stephen  nodded  to  himself  complacently. 
It  was  the  very  information  of  which  he  was  in 
search. 

“Then  your  father  isn’t  living ? ”  he  said. 

“No.  He  died  in  California.” 

“Uncle  Thomas  made  his  money  in  Cali¬ 
fornia,”  Stephen  said  to  himself.  “  I  wonder 
if  he  knew  this  newsboy’s  father.” 

“  Five  dollars  is  little  enough  for  three  per¬ 
sons  to  live  upon,”  he  went  on,  in  a  sympa¬ 
thetic  manner. 

“  Mother  earns  something  by  sewing,”  Luke 
answered  unsuspiciously;  “but  it  takes  all  we 
can  make  to  support  us.” 


STEPHEN  WEBB  OBTAINS  INFOKMATION.  81 


“  Then  they  can’t  have  any  other  resources,” 
thought  Stephen.  “I  am  getting  on  fa¬ 
mously.” 

“Well,  good-morning,  Luke!”  he  said. 

\  • 

“I’ll  see  you  later.” 

“How  do  you  know  my  name?”  asked 
Luke,  in  surprise. 

“I’m  an  idiot!”  thought  Stephen.  “I 
ought  to  have  appeared  ignorant  of  his  name. 
I  have  seen  you  before  to-day,”  he  replied, 
taking  a  little  time  to  think.  “  I  heard  one  of 
the  other  newsboys  calling  you  by  name.  I 
don’t  pretend  to  be  a  magician.” 

This  explanation  satisfied  Luke.  It  ap¬ 
peared  very  natural. 

“I  have  a  great  memory  for  names,”  pro¬ 
ceeded  Stephen.  “  That  reminds  me  that  I 
haven’t  told  you  mine — I  am  Stephen  Webb, 
at  your  service.” 

“I  will  remember  it.” 

‘  ‘  Have  a  cigarette,  Luke  %  ’  ’  added  Stephen, 
producing  a  packet  from  his  pocket. 

“Thank  you  ;  I  don’t  smoke.” 

“Don’t  smoke,  and  you  a  newsboy!  I 
thought  all  of  you  smoked.” 


82 


LUKE  WALTON-. 


“  Most  of  us  do,  but  I  promised  my  mother 
I  wouldn’t  smoke  till  I  was  twenty-one.” 

4 ‘Then  I’m  old  enough  to  smoke.  I’ve 
smoked  ever  since  I  was  twelve  years  old — • 
well,  good-morning ! 

“  That’ll  do  for  one  day,”  thought  Stephen 
Webb.  “I  rather  like  this  job.  The  duties 
are  light  and  easy,  and  it  is  to  my  advantage 
to  make  it  last  as  long  as  possible.  I  don’t 
feel  any  particular  interest  in  this  boy,  but  I 
should  like  to  know  what  my  esteemed  uncle 
is  up  to.  He  pretends  to  be  a  man  of  high 
respectability,  but  it  always  struck  me  that 
there  was  something  sly  about  him.  How¬ 
ever,  he’s  got  money,  and  I  must  do  wliat  I  can 
to  please  him.” 

It  was  three  days  before  Stephen  Webb 
called  again  on  his  new  acquaintance.  He  did 
not  wish  Luke  to  suspect  anything,  he  said  to 
himself.  Heally,  however,  he  found  other 
things  to  take  up  his  attention.  At  the  rate 
his  money  was  going  it  seemed  very  doubtful 
whether  he  would  be  able  to  give  his  mother 
any  part  of  his  salary,  as  suggested  by  his 
uncle. 


V  ' 

STEPHEN  WEBB  OBTAINS  INFORMATION.  83 

44 Hang  it  all!”  lie  said  to  himself,  as  he 
noted  his  rapidly  diminishing  hoard.  44  Why 
can’t  my  nncle  open  his  heart,  and  give  me 
more  than  ten  dollars  a  week  ?  Fifteen  dollars 
wouldn’t  be  any  too  much,  and  to  him  it  would 
be  nothing,  positively  nothing.” 

On  the  second  evening  Luke  went  home  late. 
It  had  been  a  poor  day  for  him,  and  his  re¬ 
ceipts  were  less  than  usual,  though  he  had 
been  out  more  hours. 

'  When  he  entered  the  house,  however,  he  as¬ 
sumed  a  cheerful  look,  for  he  never  wished  to 
depress  his  mother’ s  spirits. 

44  You  are  late,  Luke,”  said  Mrs.  Walton; 
44  but  I  have  kept  your  supper  warm.” 

44  What  makes  you  so  late,  Luke?”  asked 
Bennie. 

44  The  papers  w^ent  slow,  Bennie.  They  will 
sometimes.  There’s  no  very  important  news 
just  now.  I  suppose  that  explains  it.” 

After  a  while  Luke  thought  he  noticed 
that  his  mother  looked  more  serious  than 
usual. 

“What’s  the  matter,  mother?”  he  asked. 
44  Have  you  a  headache  ?  ” 


84 


LUKE  WALTOK. 


“  No,  Luke.  I  am  perfectly  well,  but  I  am 
feeling  a  little  anxious.’ ’ 

“ About  what,  mother?” 

“  I  went  round  this  afternoon  to  take  half  a 
dozen  shirts  that  I  had  completed,  and  asked 
for  more.  They  told  me  they  had  no  more  for 
me  at  present,  that  they  had  made  an  arrange¬ 
ment  to  have  a  good  deal  of  work  done  in  the 
country,  and  they  didn’t  know  when  I  could 
have  any  more.” 

That  was  bad  news,  for  Luke  knew  that  he 
alone  did  not  earn  enough  to  support  the 
family.  However,  he  answered  cheerfully : 
“  Don’t  be  anxious,  mother  !  There  are  other 
establishments  in  Chicago  besides  the  one  you 
have  been  working  for.” 

“That  is  true,  Luke;  but  I  don’t  know 
whether  they  will  help  me.  I  stopped  at  two 
places  after  leaving  Gusset  &  Co.’s,  and  was 
told  that  their  list  was  full.” 

“Well,  mother,  don’t  let  us  think  of  it  to¬ 
night.  To-morrow  we  can  try  again.” 

Luke’s  cheerfulness  had  its  effect  on  his 
mother,  and  the  evening  was  passed  socially. 
Mrs.  Walton  sewed  for  herself,  and  Luke 


STEPHEN  WEBB  OBTAINS  INFORMATION.  85 


amused  Bennie  by  his  stories  of  what  he  had 
seen  during  the  day. 

The  next  morning  Luke  went  out  to  work  at 
the  usual  time.  He  had  all  his  papers  sold  out 
by  half -past  ten  o’clock,  and  walked  over  to 
State  Street,  partly  to  fill  up  the  time,  and 
partly  in  search  of  some  stray  job.  He  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  Bee  Hive,  a  well- 
known  dry-goods  store  on  State  Street,  when 
his  attention  was  called  to  an  old  lady  who,  in 
attempting  to  cross  the  street,  had  imprudently 
placed  herself  just  in  the  track  of  a  rapidly  ad¬ 
vancing  cable  car.  Becoming  sensible  of  her 
danger,  the  old  lady  uttered  a  terrified  cry,  but 
was  too  panic-stricken  to  move. 

On  came  the  car,  with  gong  sounding  out  its 
alarm,  and  a  cry  of  horror  went  up  from  the 
bystanders. 

Luke  alone  seemed  to  have  his  wits  about 
him. 

i 

He  saw  that  there  was  not  a  moment  to  lose, 
and,  gathering  up  his  strength,  dashed  to  the 
old  lady’ s  assistance. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A  HOUSE  OH  PRAIRIE  AVENUE. 

HE  old  lady  had  just  become  conscious  of 


JL  her  peril  when  Luke  reached  her.  She 
was  too  bewildered  to  move,  and  would  inevit¬ 
ably  have  been  crushed  by  the  approaching  car 
had  not  Luke  seized  her  by  the  arm,  and  fairly 
dragged  her  out  of  danger. 

Then,  as  the  car  passed  on,  he  took  olf  his 
hat,  and  said  apologetically  :  “I  hope  you  will 
excuse  my  roughness,  madam,  but  I  could  see 
no  other  way  of  saving  you.” 

“Please  lead  me  to  the  sidewalk,”  gasped 
the  old  ladv. 

Luke  complied  with  her  request. 

u  I  am  deeply  thankful  to  you,  my  boy,”  she 
said,  as  soon  as  she  found  voice.  “I  can  see 
that  I  was  in  great  danger.  I  was  busily 
thinking,  or  I  should  not  have  been  so  careless.” 

“Iam  glad  I  was  able  to  help  you,”  re- 


86 


A  HOUSE  ON  PRAIRIE  AVENUE.  87 

sponded  Luke,  as  lie  prepared  to  leave  his  new 
acquaintance. 

4 4  Don’ t  leave  me  !  ’  ’  said  the  old  lady.  4  4  My 
nerves  are  so  upset  that  I  don’ t  like  being  left 
alone.” 

44 1  am  quite  at  your  service,  madam,”  replied 
Luke,  politely.  4  4  Shall  I  put  you  on  board 
the  carsl” 

44  No,  call  a  carriage,  please.” 

This  was  easily  done,  for  they  were  in  front 
of  the  Palmer  House,  where  a  line  of  cabs  may 
usually  be  found.  Luke  called  one,  and  as¬ 
sisted  the  old  lady  inside. 

44  Where  shall  I  tell  the  driver  to  take  you  ?  ” 
he  asked. 

The  lady  named  a  number  on  Prairie  Avenue, 
which  contains  some  of  the  finest  private  resi¬ 
dences  in  Chicago. 

44  Can  I  do  anything  more  for  you  ?  ”  asked 
our  hero. 

44  Yes,”  was  the  unexpected  reply.  44  Get  in 
yourself,  if  you  can  spare  the  time.” 

44  Certainly,”  assented  Luke. 

He  took  his  seat  beside  the  old  lady,  wonder¬ 
ing  what  further  service  she  required  of  him. 


88 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  I  hope  you  are  recovered  from  your  fright!” 
he  said  politely. 

“  Yes,  I  begin  to  feel  myself  again.  Prob¬ 
ably  you  wonder  why  I  have  asked  you  to 
accompany  me  ?  ’  ’ 

u  Probably  because  you  may  need  my  ser¬ 
vices,”  suggested  Luke. 

“  Not  altogether.  I  shudder  as  I  think  of 
the  danger  from  which  you  rescued  me,  but  I 
have  another  object  in  view.” 

Luke  waited  for  her  to  explain. 

“  I  want  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
you.” 

“  Thank  you,  madam.” 

‘ ‘ I  fully  recognize  that  you  have  done  me  a 
great  service.  Now,  if  I  ask  you  a  fair  ques¬ 
tion  about  yourself,  you  won’t  think  it  an  old 
woman’ s  curiosity  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  hope  I  should  not  be  so  ill-bred,  madam.” 

“  Really,  you  are  a  very  nice  boy.” 

Luke  blushed  a  little,  for  he  was  not  used  to 
compliments. 

u  Now  tell  me,  where  do  you  live  ?  ” 

“  On  Green  Street.” 

“  Where  is  that  ?  ” 


A  HOUSE  ON  PEAIKIE  AVENUE. 


89 


“  Only  a  stone's  throw  from  Milwaukee 
Avenue.” 

44  I  don’t  think  I  was  ever  in  that  part  of  the 
city.” 

4  4  It  is  not  a  nice  part  of  the  city,  but  we  can 
not  afford  to  live  in  a  better  place.” 

44  You  say  ‘we.’  Does  that  mean  your  father 
and  mother  \  ’  ’ 

44  My  father  is  dead.  Our  family  consists  of 
my  mother,  my  little  brother,  and  myself.” 

4  4  And  you  are — excuse  my  saying  so — 
poor \ ’  ’ 

44  We  are  poor,  but  thus  far  we  have  not 
wanted  for  food  or  shelter.” 

44 1  suppose  you  are  enqfioyed  in  some 
way  ? ’  ’ 

44  Yes  ;  I  sell  papers.” 

44  Then  you  are  a  newsboy  %  ” 

44  Yes,  madam.” 

44 1  have  read  about  the  newsboys,  but  I 
know  very  little  about  them.  I  suppose  you 
can  not  save  very  much  ?  ” 

44  If  I  make  seventy-five  cents  in  a  day  I  con¬ 
sider  myself  quite  lucky.  It  is  more  than  I 
average.” 


90 


LUKE  WALT  OK. 


44  Surely  you  can’t  live  on  that — I  mean  the 
three  of  you  ?” 

44  Mother  earns  something  by  making  shirts ; 
at  least  she  has  done  so ;  but  yesterday  she 
was  told  that  she  would  not  have  any  more 
work  at  present.” 

“And  your  brother — he  is  too  young  to 
work,  I  suppose  3  ” 

44  Yes,  madam  ?  ” 

44  I  am  afraid,”  said  the  old  lady  thought¬ 
fully,  44  that  we  who  enjoy  all  that  wealth  can 
give  us,  and  are  spared  all  pecuniary  anxieties, 
are  not  sufficiently  grateful  for  the  good  gifts 
of  Providence.” 

Luke  knew  that  a  reply  was  not  expected, 

and  he  did  not  make  any. 

* 

44  Do  you  ever  get  low-spirited  ?  ”  asked  the 
old  lady  suddenly. 

44  No  ;  I  am  always  hoping  that  better  days 
will  come.” 

1 4  And  your  mother  ?  ’  ’ 

4  4  She  is  not  so  hopeful ;  but  while  she  had 
work  to  do  she  was  cheerful.  Last  evening  I 
found  her  out  of  spirits.  You  see  she  can’t 
tell  when  she  will  have  work  again.” 


A  HOUSE  OH  PRAIEIE  AVENUE.  91 

“  Just  so.  Tell  her  from  me  to  hope  for 
better  fortune.” 

“  I  will,  madam.” 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  the 
cab  was  making  rapid  progress,  and  as  the 
last  words  were  spoken  the  driver  reined  up  in 
front  of  a  handsome  residence. 

“Is  this  the  place,  madam?  ”  asked  Luke. 

The  old  lady  looked  out  of  the  hack. 

“Yes,”  she  answered.  “  I  had  no  idea  we 
had  got  along  so  far.” 

Luke  helj:)ed  her  out  of  the  cab.  She  paid 
the  man  his  fare,  and  then  signed  to  Luke  to 
help  her  up  the  steps. 

“I  want  you  to  come  into  the  house  with 
me,”  she  said.  “I  have  not  got  through 
talking  with  you.” 

A  maid-servant  answered  the  bell.  She 
looked  surprised  when  she  saw  the  old  lady’s 
companion. 

“  Is  my  niece  in  ?  ”  asked  the  old  lady. 

“No,  Mrs.  Merton — Master  Harold  is  in.” 

“Never  mind!  You  may  come  upstairs 
with  me,  young  man.” 

Luke  followed  the  old  lady  up  the  broad, 


LUKE  WALTON. 


92 

handsome  staircase,  stealing  a  curious  glance 
at  an  elegantly  furnished  drawing-room,  the 
door  of  which  opened  into  the  hall. 

His  companion  led  the  way  into  the  front 
room  on  the  second  floor. 

“  Remain  here  till  I  have  taken  olf  my 
things,”  she  said. 

Luke  seated  himself  in  a  luxurious  arm¬ 
chair,  wholly  unlike  the  chairs  in  his  humble 
home. 

He  looked  about  him,  and  wondered  how  it 

would  seem  to  live  in  such  luxury.  He  had 

little  time  for  thought,  for  in  less  than  five 

% 

minutes  Mrs.  Merton  made  her  appearance. 

“  You  have  not  yet  told  me  your  name,” 
she  said. 

'‘Luke  Walton.” 

“  That’s  a  good  name — I  am  Mrs.  Merton.” 
“I  noticed  that  the  servant  called  you 
so” 

“Yes;  I  am  a  widow.  My  married  niece 
lives  here  with  me.  She  is  also  a  widow,  with 
one  son,  Harold.  I  should  think  he  might  be 
about  your  age.  Her  name  is  Tracy.  You 
wonder  why  I  give  you  all  these  particulars  ? 


A  HOUSE  OH  PRAIEIE  AVENUE. 


93 


I  see  you  do.  It  is  because  I  mean  to  keep  up 
our  acquaintance.’ ’ 

“  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Merton.” 

“  My  experience  this  morning  has  shown  me 
that  I  am  hardly  fit  to  go  about  the  city  alone. 
Yet  I  am  not  willing  to  remain  at  home.  It 
has  occurred  to  me  that  I  can  make  use  of 
your  services  with  advantage  both  to  you  and 
myself.  What  do  you  say  %  ” 

“I  shall  be  glad  of  anything  that  will  in¬ 
crease  my  income,”  said  Luke,  promptly. 

“  So  I  thought.  Please  call  here  to-morrow 
morning,  and  inquire  for  me.  I  will  then  tell 
you  what  I  require.” 

“  Very  well,  Mrs.  Merton.  You  may  de- 

{ 

pend  upon  me.” 

“  And  accept  a  week’s  pay  in  advance.” 

She  put  a  sealed  envelope  into  his  hand. 
Luke  took  it,  and  with  a  bow  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A  PLOT  THAT  FAILED. 

S  the  distance  was  considerable  to  the/ 


xA.  business  part  of  the  city,  Luke  boarded 
a  car  and  rode  down  town.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  to  open  the  envelojie  till  he  was  half¬ 
way  to  the  end  of  his  journey. 

When  he  did  so  he  was  agreeably  surprised. 
The  envelope  contained  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

‘ 4  Ten  dollars  !  Hasn’ t  Mrs.  Merton  made  a 
mistake  ?”  he  said  to  himself.  “  She  said  it 
was  a  week’s  pay.  But  of  course  she  wouldn’t 
pay  ten  dollars  for  the  little  I  am  to  do.” 

Luke  decided  that  the  extra  sum  was  given 
him  on  account  of  the  service  he  had  already 
been  fortunate  enough  to  render  the  old  lady. 

It  is  not  always  wise  to  display  money  in  a 
public  conveyance.  This  was  a  lesson  which 
Luke  was  destined  to  learn  by  an  embarrass- 
ing  experience. 


94 


A  PLOT  THAT  FAILED. 


95 


Next  to  liim  sat  a  rather  showily  dressed 
woman,  with  keen,  sharp  eyes.  She  took 
notice  of  the  bank-note  whick  Luke  drew  from 
the  envelope,  and  prepared  to  take  advantage 
of  the  knowledge. 

No  sooner  had  Luke  replaced  the  envelope 
in  his  pocket  than  this  woman  put  her  hand 
in  hers,  and,  after  a  pretended  search,  ex¬ 
claimed,  in  a  loud  voice  :  4  ‘  There  is  a  pick¬ 
pocket  in  this  car.  I  have  been  robbed  !  ’  ’ 

Of  course  this  statement  aroused  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  all  the  passengers. 

“What  have  you  lost,  madam?”  inquired 
an  old  gentleman. 

\ 

“  A  ten-dollar  bill,”  answered  the  woman. 

“  Was  it  in  your  pocketbook  ?  ” 

“No,”  she  replied  glibly.  “It  was  in  an 
envelope.  It  was  handed  to  me  by  my  sister 
just  before  I  left  home.” 

As  soon  as  Luke  heard  this  declaration  he 
understood  that  the  woman  had  laid  a  trap 
for  him,  and  he  realized  his  imprudence  in 
displaying  the  money.  Naturally  he  looked 
excited  and  disturbed.  He  saw  that  in  all 
probability  the  woman’s  word  would  be  taken 


96 


LUKE  WALTON. 


in  preference  to  his.  He  might  be  arrested, 
and  find  it  difficult  to  prove  his  innocence. 

‘  ‘  Have  you  any  suspicion  as  to  who  took 
it  ?  ”  asked  the  old  gentleman. 

“  I  think  this  boy  took  it,”  said  the  woman, 
pointing  to  Luke. 

Hostile  and  suspicious  eyes  were  turned  up¬ 
on  the  latter. 

Why  is  it  that  people  are  prone  to  believe 
evil  of  one  who  is  accused,  and  to  pronounce 
a  verdict  of  guilty  on  that  account  alone  ? 

“  It’s  terrible,  and  he  so  young!”  said  an 
old  lady  with  a  serene  cast  of  countenance, 
who  sat  next  to  the  old  gentleman.  “  What 
is  the  world  coming  to  ?  ” 

u  Wliat,  indeed,  ma’am?”  echoed  the  old 
gentleman. 

Luke  felt  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  say 
something. 

“  This  lady  is  quite  mistaken,”  he  declared, 
pale  but  resolute.  “  I  am  no  thief.” 

“  It  can  easily  be  proved,”  said  the  woman, 
with  a  cunning  smile.  “  Let  the  boy  show  the 
contents  of  his  pockets.” 

“  Yes,  that  is  only  fair.” 


A  PLOT  THAT  FAILED. 


97 


Luke  saw  that  his  difficulties  were  increas¬ 
ing. 

4  4  I  admit  that  I  have  a  ten-dollar  bill  in  an 
envelope,”  he  said. 

“I  told  you  so!”  cried  the  woman,  tri¬ 
umphantly. 

“  But  it  is  my  own.” 

“Graceless  boy!”  said  the  old  gentle¬ 
man  severely.  “Do  not  add  falsehood  to 
theft.” 

“  I  am  speaking  the  truth,  sir.” 

“  How  the  boy  brazens  it  out !  ”  murmured 
the  sour-visaged  lady,  who  was  an  old  maid, 
but  not  from  choice. 

4 4  Return  the  lady  her  money,  unless  you 
wish  to  be  arrested,”  said  the  old  gentleman. 
44  It  is  really  shocking  that  a  boy  should  be  so 
unprincipled.” 

9 

44 1  don’t  intend  to  give  this  person” — Luke 
found  it  hard  to  say  lady — 44  what  she  has  no 
claim  to.” 

44  Young  man,  you  will  find  that  you  are 
making  a  grand  mistake.  Probably  if  you 
give  up  the  money  the  lady  will  not  prosecute 
you.” 


7 


98 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  No,  I  will  have  pity  upon  his  youth,” 
said  the  woman. 

“  I  can  tell  exactly  where  I  got  the  money,” 
went  on  Luke,  desperately. 

‘‘Where  did  you  get  it?”  asked  the  old 
maid,  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

“From  Mrs.  Merton,  of  Prairie  Avenue.” 

“  What  did  she  give  it  to  you  for  ?  ” 

“  I  am  in  her  employment.” 

“Gentlemen,”  said  the  woman,  shrugging 
her  shoulders,  “  you  can  judge  whether  this  is 
a  probable  story.” 

“  I  refer  to  Mrs.  Merton  herself,”  said  Luke. 

“No  doubt !  You  want  to  gain  time.  Boy, 
I  am  getting  out  of  patience.  Give  me  my 
money  !  ” 

“I  have  no  money  of  yours,  madam,”  re¬ 
plied  Luke,  provoked  ;  “and  you  know  that 
as  well  as  I  do.” 

“  So  you  are  impertinent  as  well  as  a  thief,” 
said  the  old  gentleman.  “I  have  no  more  pity 
for  you.  Madam,  if  you  take  my  advice,  you 
will  have  the  lying  rascal  arrested.” 

“  I  would  prefer  that  he  should  give  up  the 
money  quietly.” 


A  PLOT  THAT  FAILED. 


99 


“  I  will  take  it  upon  myself  to  call  a  police¬ 
man  when  the  car  stops.  I  have  seldom  seen 
a  more  hardened  young  villain.” 

“You  do  me  great  injustice,  sir,”  said 
Luke.  “Why  do  you  judge  so  severely  of 
one  whom  you  do  not  know  ?  Why  do  you 
accept  this  person’s  word,  and  refuse  to  be¬ 
lieve  me  ?  ’  ’ 

“  Because,  young  man,  I  have  lived  too  long 
to  be  easily  deceived.  I  pride  myself  upon 
my  judgment  of  faces,  and  I  can  see  the  guilt 
in  yours.” 

The  woman  gazed  about  her  triumphantly. 
It  looked  to  her  as  if  her  trick  would  be  suc¬ 
cessful,  and  she  would  gain  ten  dollars  by 

« 

sacrificing  the  reputation  of  a  boy.  I  hope 
there  are  not  many  persons  of  either  sex  so 
contemptibly  mean  as  was  this  well-dressed 
woman. 

Luke  looked  about  him  earnestly. 

“  Is  there  no  one  in  this  car  who  believes  me 
innocent?”  he  asked. 

“No,”  said  the  old  gentleman.  “We  all 
believe  that  this  very  respectable  lady  charges 
you  justly.” 


100 


LUKE  WALTON". 


“I  say  amen  to  that,”  added  the  old  maid, 
nodding  sharply. 

When  things  are  at  the  worst  they  are  liable 
to  take  a  turn. 

Next  to  the  old  maid  sat  a  man  of  about 
thirty-five,  in  a  business  suit,  who,  though 
he  had  said  nothing,  had  listened  attentively 
to  the  charges  and  counter- charges.  In  him 
Luke  was  to  find  a  powerful  and  effective 
friend. 

“  Speak  for  yourself,  old  gentleman,”  he 
said.  “  You  certainly  are  old  enough  to  have 
learned  a  lesson  in  Christian  charity.” 

“  Sir,”  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman  in  a 
lofty  tone,  “I  don’t  require  any  instructions 
from  you.” 

“Why  do  you  think  the  boy  a  thief  ?  Did 
you  see  him  take  the  money  \  ’  ’ 

“No,  but  its  presence  in  his  pocket  is  proof 
enough  for  me  of  his  guilt.” 

“  Of  course  it  is  !  ”  said  the  old  maid  trium¬ 
phantly,  and  she  glared  at  Luke’s  defender  in 
a  malevolent  way. 

The  young  man  did  not  appear  in  the  least 
disconcerted. 


A  PLOT  THAT  FAILED. 


101 


“  I  have  seldom  encountered  more  uncharit¬ 
able  people,”  he  said.  u  You  are  ready  to 
pronounce  the  boy  guilty  without  any  proof 
at  all.” 

u  Does  it  occur  to  you  that  you  are  insulting 
the  lady  who  brings  the  charge  ? 5  ’  asked  the 
old  gentleman  sternly. 

The  young  man  laughed. 

“  The  woman  has  brought  a  false  charge,” 
he  said. 

u  Really,  this  is  outrageous  !  ”  cried  the  old 
maid.  u  If  I  were  in  her  place  I  would  make 
you  suffer  for  this  calumny.” 

‘  ‘  Probably  I  know  her  better  than  you  do. 
I  am  a  salesman  in  Marshall  Field’s  dry-goods 
store,  and  this  lady  is  a  notorious  shoplifter. 
She  is  varying  her  performances  to-day.  I 
have  a  great  mind  to  call  a  policeman.  She 
deserves  arrest.” 

Had  a  bombshell  exploded  in  the  car  there 
would  not  have  been  a  greater  sensation.  The 
woman  rose  without  a  word,  and  signaled  to 
have  the  car  stopped. 

“Now,  sir,”  went  on  the  young  man, 
sternly,  “if  you  are  a  gentleman  you  will 


102 


V 


LUKE  WALTON. 


apologize  to  this  boy  for  your  unworthy  sus¬ 
picions,  and  you,  too,  madam.” 

The  old  maid  tossed  her  head,  but  could 
not  find  a  word  to  say,  while  the  old  gentle¬ 
man  looked  the  picture  of  mortification. 

“We  are  all  liable  to  be  mistaken!”  he 
muttered  in  a  confused  tone. 

“  Then  be  more  careful  next  time,  both  of 
you  !  My  boy,  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
triumphant  vindication.” 

u  Thank  you,  sir,  for  it.  I  should  have  stood 
a  very  poor  chance  without  your  help.” 

The  tide  was  turned,  and  the  uncharitable 
pair  found  so  many  unfriendly  glances  fixed 
upon  them  that  they  were  glad  to  leave  the  car 
at  the  next  crossing. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


TOM  BROOKS  IN  TROUBLE. 

BEGIN  to  think  I  am  the  favorite  of 
fortune,”  thought  Luke.  “  Ten  dollars 
will  more  than  pay  a  month’s  rent.  Mother 
will  feel  easy  now  about  her  loss  of  employ¬ 
ment.” 

Some  boys  would  have  felt  like  taking  a 
holiday  for  the  balance  of  the  day,  perhaps  of 
going  to  a  place  of  amusement,  but  Luke 
bought  his  evening  papers  as  usual.  He  had 
but  half  a  dozen  left  when  his  new  acquaint¬ 
ance,  Stephen  Webb,  sauntered  along. 

“ How’s  business,  Luke?”  he  asked. 

“Very  fair,  thank  you.” 

“Give  me  a  News” 

Stephen  passed  over  a  penny  in  payment, 

i 

but  did  not  seem  inclined  to  go  away. 

“  I  meant  to  see  you  before,”  he  said,  “  but 
my  time  got  filled  up.” 


104 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Have  you  taken  a  situation,  then  ?  ”  asked 
Luke. 

“No,  I  am  still  a  man  of  leisure.  Why 
don’t  you  hire  a  small  store,  and  do  a  gen¬ 
eral  periodical  business  ?  It  would  pay  you 
better.” 

“No  doubt  it  would,  but  it  would  take 
money  to  open  and  stock  such  a  store.” 

“I  may  make  a  proposition  to  you  some 
time  to  go  in  with  me,  I  furnishing  the  capital 
and  you  managing  the  business.” 

“I  am  always  open  to  a  good  offer,”  said 
Luke,  smiling. 

Stephen  Webb’s  available  capital  was  less 
than  Luke’s,  but  he  wanted  to  create  the  im¬ 
pression  that  he  was  a  man  of  means,  and  also 
to  worm  himself  into  the  newsboy’s  con¬ 
fidence. 

“  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  some  business, 
but  I’m  a  social  kind  of  a  fellow,  and  should 
want  a  partner,  a  smart,  enterprising,  trust¬ 
worthy  person  like  you.” 

“  Thank  you  for  the  compliment.” 

u  Never  mind  that !  I  am  a  judge  of  human 
nature,  and  I  felt  confidence  in  you  at  once.” 


TOM  BROOKS  IN  TROUBLE. 


105 


Somehow  Luke  was  not  altogether  inclined 
to  take  Stephen  Webb  at  his  own  valuation. 
His  new  acquaintance  did  not  impress  him  as 
a  reliable  man  of  business,  but  he  had  no  sus¬ 
picion  of  anything  underhanded. 

By  this  time  Luke  had  disposed  of  his  re¬ 
maining  papers. 

u  I  am  through  for  the  day,”  he  said,  “  and 
shall  go  home.” 

“  Do  you  walk  or  ride  %  ’ 

“I  walk.” 

“  If  you  don't  mind  I  will  walk  along  with 
you.  I  haven’t  taken  much  exercise  to-day.” 

Luke  had  no  reason  for  declining  this  pro¬ 
posal,  and  accepted  Stephen’s  companionship. 
They  walked  on  Clark  Street  to  the  bridge, 
and  crossed  the  river.  Presently  they  reached 
Milwaukee  Avenue. 

“  Isn’t  the  walk  too  long  for  you  ?”  asked 
Luke. 

“  Oh,  no  !  I  can  walk  any  distance  when  I 
have  company.  I  shall  take  a  car  back.” 

Stephen  accompanied  the  newsboy  as  far  as 
his  own  door.  He  would  like  to  have  been  in¬ 
vited  up,  but  Luke  did  not  care  to  give  him 


106 


LUKE  WALTON. 


i 


such  an  invitation.  Though  Stephen  seemed 
very  friendly,  he  was  not  one  with  whom  he 
cared  to  cultivate  intimate  relations. 

“Well,  so-long  !  ”  said  Stephen,  with  his 
“good-night,”  “I  shall  probably  see  you  to¬ 
morrow.” 

“  I  have  found  out  where  they  live,”  thought 
Stephen.  “  On  the  whole,  I  am  making  a  very 
good  detective.  I’ll  drop  a  line  to  Uncle 
Thomas  this  evening.” 

Meanwhile  Luke  went  upstairs  two  steps  at 
a  time.  He  was  the  bearer  of  good  tidings, 
and  that  always  quickens  the  steps. 

He  found  his  mother  sitting  in  her  rocking- 
chair  with  a  sober  face. 

“Well,  mother,”  he  asked  gaily,  “how 
have  you  passed  the  day  ?  ’  ’ 

“Very  unprofitably,  Luke.  I  went  out  this 
afternoon,  and  visited  two  places  where  I 
thought  they  might  have  some  sewing  for  me, 
but  I  only  met  with  disappointment.  Now 
that  I  have  a  sewing-machine,  it  is  a  pity  that 
I  can’t  make  use  of  it.” 

“Don't  be  troubled,  mother!  We  can  get 
along  well  enough.” 


TOM  BROOKS  IN  TROUBLE. 


107 


“  But  we  have  only  your  earnings  to  depend 
upon,  Luke.” 

“  If  I  always  have  as  good  a  day  as  this,  we 
can  depend  on  those  very  easily.” 

“  Did  you  earn  much,  Luke  ?  ”  asked  Bennie. 

“  I  earned  a  lot  of  money.” 

Mrs.  Walton  looked  interested,  and  Luke’s 
manner  cheered  her. 

“  There  are  always  compensations,  it  seems. 
I  was  only  thinking  of  my  own  bad  luck.” 

“  What  do  you  say  to  that,  mother?”  and 
Luke  displayed  the  ten-dollar  bill. 

“I  don’t  understand  how  you  could  have 
taken  in  so  much  money,  Luke.” 

“Then  I  will  explain,”  and  Luke  told  the 
story  of  the  adventure  on  State  Street,  and  his 
rescue  of  the  old  lady  from  the  danger  of  being 
run  over. 

“  The  best  of  it  is,”  he  concluded,  “  I  think 
I  shall  get  regular  employment  for  part  of  my 
time  from  Mrs.  Merton.  Whatever  I  do  for 
her  will  be  liberally  paid  for.” 

Luke  went  out  to  a  bakery  for  some  cream 
cakes,  of  which  Bennie  was  particularly  fond, 
as  an  addition  to  their  frugal  supper,  and  the 


108 


LUKE  WALTON. 


evening  was  passed  in  a  very  cheerful  and 
hopeful  fashion. 

At  the  same  time  Stephen  Webb  was  busily 
engaged  in  the  writing-room  of  the  Palmer 
House,  inditing  a  letter  to  his  uncle.  We  will 
take  the  liberty  of  looking  over  his  shoulder 
while  he  writes : 

Dear  Uncle  Thomas — I  have  devoted  my 
whole  time  to  the  task  which  you  assigned  me, 
and  have  met  with  very  good  success.  I  found 
the  boy  uncommunicative,  and  had  to  exert  all 
my  ingenuity. 

Of  the  accuracy  of  this  and  other  statements 
the  reader  will  judge  for  himself. 

The  boy  has  a  mother  and  a  younger  brother. 
They  depend  for  support  chiefly  upon  what  he 
can  earn,  though  the  mother  does  a  little  sew¬ 
ing,  but  that  doesn’t  bring  in  much.  They  live 
in  Green  Street,  near  Milwaukee  Avenue.  I 
have  been  there,  and  seen  the  house  where  thev 
reside.  It  is  a  humble  place,  but  as  good,  I 
presume,  as  they  can  afford.  No  doubt  they 
are  very  poor,  and  have  all  they  can  do  to  make 
both  ends  meet. 

I  have  learned  thus  much,  but  have  had  to 
work  hard  to  do  it.  Of  course  I  need  not  say 
that  I  shall  spare  no  pains  to  meet  your  expec¬ 
tations.  If  you  should  take  me  into  your 


TOM  BROOKS  IN  TROUBLE. 


109 


confidence,  and  give  me  an  idea  of  what  more 
you  wish  to  know,  1  feel  sure  that  I  can  manage 
to  secure  all  needed  information. 

Your  dutiful  nephew, 

Stephen  Webb. 

Thomas  Browning,  in  his  Milwaukee  home, 
read  this  letter  with  satisfaction. 

4 ‘My  nephew  seems  curious,”  he  said  medi¬ 
tatively  ;  4  4  but  I  do  not  feel  disposed  to  tell 
him  my  object  in  looking  up  the  Waltons.  If 
he  knew  my  secret  he  would  be  likely  to  trade 
upon  it.  That  way  of  making  a  living  would 
suit  him  better  than  solid  work.” 

He  wrote  briefly  to  his  nephew : 

“  You  have  done  well  thus  far,  and  I  appre- 

i 

ciate  your  zeal.  Get  the  boy  to  talking  about 
his  father,  if  you  can.  Let  me  hear  anything 
he  may  say  on  this  subject.  As  to  my  mo¬ 
tive,  I  suspect  that  Mr.  Walton  may  have 
been  an  early  acquaintance  of  mine.  If  so, 
I  may  feel  disposed  to  do  something  for  the 
family.  ” 

4  4  Uncle  Thomas  may  tell  that  to  the  marines,  ’  ’ 
said  the  astute  Stephen.  4 4  He  can’t  humbug 
me  by  posing  as  a  philanthropist.  He  looks 
out  for  number  one  every  time.  I’ll  follow  up 


110 


LUKE  WALTON". 


tliis  matter,  and  I  may  learn  more  in  course  of 
time.5’ 

On  Ms  way  to  tlie  Sherman  House  the  next 
morning  Luke  witnessed  rather  an  exciting 
scene,  in  which  his  old  acquaintance,  Tom 
Brooks,  played  a  prominent  part. 

There  was  a  Chinese  laundry  on  Milwaukee 
Avenue  kept  by  a  couple  of  Chinamen,  who 
were  peaceably  disposed  if  not  interfered  with. 
But  several  boys,  headed  by  Tom  Brooks,  had 
repeatedly  annoyed  the  laundrymen,  and  ex¬ 
cited  their  resentment. 

On  this  particular  morning  Tom  sent  a  stone 
crashing  through  the  window  of  Ah  King.  The 
latter  had  been  on  the  watch,  and,  provoked 
beyond  self-control,  rushed  out  into  the  street, 
wild  with  rage,  and  pursued  Tom  with  a  flatiron 
in  his  hand.  ^ 

4  ‘  Help  !  help  !  murder  ! 5  5  exclaimed  Tom, 
panic-stricken,  running  away  as  fast  as  his  legs 
would  carry  him. 

But  anger,  excited  by  the  broken  window, 
lent  wings  to  the  Chinaman’s  feet,  and  he 
gained  rapidly  upon  the  young  aggressor. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


LUKE  HAS  A  COOL  RECEPTION  IN  PRAIRIE 

* 


AVENUE. 


OM  BROOKS  had  reason  to  feel  alarmed, 


JL  for  his  Chinese  pursuer  was  very  much 
in  earnest,  and  fully  intended  to  strike  Tom 
with  the  flatiron.  Though  this  was  utterly 
wrong,  some  excuse  must  be  made  for  Ah 
King,  who  had  frequently  been  annoyed  by 


Tom. 


It  was  at  this  critical  juncture  that  Luke 
Walton  appeared  on  the  scene. 

He  had  no  reason  to  like  Tom,  but  he  in¬ 
stantly  prepared  to  rescue  him.  Fortunately 
he  knew  Ah  King,  whom  he  had  more  than 
once  protected  from  the  annoyance  of  the 
hoodlums  of  the  neighborhood. 

Luke  ran  up  and  seized  the  Chinaman  by 
the  arm. 

“  What  are  you  going  to  do  %  ”  he  demand¬ 
ed  sternly. 


ill 


112 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Fool  boy  bleak  my  window,”  said  Ah 
King.  “  I  bleak  liis  head.” 

“No,  yon  mustn’t  do  that.  The  police  will 

arrest  vou.” 

«/ 

“Go  away!  Me  killee  white  boy,”  cried 
Ah  King,  impatiently,  trying  to  shake  oh 
Luke’s  grasp.  “  He  bleak  window — cost  me  a 
dollee.”  ' 

“I’ll  see  that  he  pays  it,  or  is  arrested,” 
said  Luke. 

Unwillingly  Ah  King  suffered  himself  to  be 
persuaded,  more  readily  perhaps  that  Tom 
was  now  at  a  safe  distance. 

“You  plomise  me?”  said  Ah  King. 

“  Yes  ;  if  he  don’t  pay,  I  will.  Go  and  get 
the  window  mended.” 

Luke  easily  overtook  Tom,  who  was  looking 
round  the  corner  to  see  how  matters  were 
going. 

“  Has  he  gone  back?”  asked  Tom,  rather 
anxiously. 

“  Yes,  but  if  I  hadn’t  come  along  he  would 
perhaps  have  killed  you.” 

“You  only  say  that  to  scare  me,”  said  Tom, 
uneasily. 


LUKE  HAS  A  COOL  RECEPTION.  113 

J 

“  No,  I  don’t;  I  mean  it.  Do  you  know 
how  I  got  you  off  ?  ” 

“  How  %  ” 

“I  told  Ah  King  you  would  pay  for  the 
broken  window.  It  will  cost  a  dollar.” 

“I  didn’t  promise,”  said  Tom  significantly. 

“  No,”  said  Luke  sternly,  “but  if  you 
don’t  do  it,  I  will  myself  have  you  arrested. 
I  saw  you  throw  the  stone  at  the  window.” 

“What  concern  is  it  of  yours  ?  ”  asked  Tom, 
angrily.  “  Why  do  you  meddle  with  my  bus¬ 
iness?  ” 

“If  I  hadn’t  meddled  with  your  business, 
you  might  have  a  fractured  skull  by  this  time. 
It  is  a  contemptibly  mean  thing  to  annoy  a 
poor  Chinaman.” 

“  He’s  only  a  heathen.” 

“A  well-behaved  heathen  is  better  than  a 

» 

Christian  such  as  you  are.” 

“  I  don’t  want  any  lectures,”  said  Tom,  in  a 
sulky  tone. 

“  I  presume  not.  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say  except  that  I  expect  you  to  hand  me  that 
dollar  to-night.” 

“I  haven’t  got  a  dollar.” 

8 


k 


114  LUKE  WALTON. 

44  Then  you  had  better  get  one.  I  don’t  be¬ 
lieve  you  got  a  dollar's  worth  of  sport  in 
breaking  the  window,  and  I  advise  you  here¬ 
after  to  spend  your  money  better.” 

“I  don’t  believe  I  will  pay  it,”  said  Tom, 
eying  Luke  closely  to  see  if  he  were  in  earnest. 

44  Then  I  will  report  your  case  to  the  po¬ 
lice.” 

“You’re  a  mean  fellow!”  said  Tom  an- 
grily, 

4  ‘  I  begin  to  be  sorry  I  interfered  to  save 
you.  However,  take  your  choice.  If  neces¬ 
sary,  I  will  pay  the  dollar  myself,  for  I  have 
promised  Ah  King  ;  but  I  shall  keep  my  word 
about  having  you  arrested.” 

It  was  a  bitter  pill  for  Tom  to  swallow,  but 
he  managed  to  raise  the  money,  and  handed  it 
to  Luke  that  evening.  Instead  of  being  grate¬ 
ful  to  the  one  who  had  possibly  saved  his  life, 
he  was  only  the  more  incensed  against  him, 
and  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  do  him  an 
injury. 

44 1  hate  that  Luke  Walton,”  he  said  to  one 
of  his  intimate  friends.  44  He  wants  to  boss 
me,  and  all  of  us,  but  he  can’t  do  it.  He’s 


LUKE  HAS  A  COOL  RECEPTION. 


115 


only  fit  to  keep  company  with  a  heathen 
Chinee.” 

Luke  spent  but  a  couple  of  hours  in  selling 
papers.  He  had  not  forgotten  his  engagement 
with  Mrs.  Merton,  and  punctually  at  ten  o’clock 
he  pulled  the  bell  of  the  house  in  Prairie 
Avenue. 

Just  at  the  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and 
he  faced  a  boy  of  his  own  age,  a  thin,  dark- 
complexioned  youth,  of  haughty  bearing.  This 
no  doubt,  he  concluded,  was  Harold  Tracy. 

“What  do  you  want?”  he  asked,  supercil¬ 
iously. 

“  I  should  like  to  see  Mrs.  Merton.” 

“Humph!  What  business  have  you  with 
Mrs.  Merton  ?  ” 

Luke  was  not  favorably  impressed  with 
Harold’ s  manner,  and  did  not  propose  to  treat 
him  with  the  consideration  which  he  evidently 
thought  his  due. 


“  I  came  here  at  Mrs.  Merton’s  request,”  he 
said  briefly.  “As  to  what  business  we  have 
together,  I  refer  you  to  her.  ’  ’ 

“  It  strikes  me  you  are  impudent,”  retorted 
Harold,  angrily. 


116 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Your  opinion  of  me  is  of  no  importance  to 
me.  If  you  don’t  care  to  let  Mrs.  Merton  know 
I  am  here,  I  will  ring  again  and  ask  the  servant 
to  do  so.” 

* 

Here  a  lady  bearing  a  strong  personal  resem¬ 
blance  to  Harold  made  her  appearance,  entering 
the  hall  from  the  breakfast-room  in  the  rear. 

“  What’s  all  this,  Harold  \  ”  she  asked,  in  a 
tone  of  authority. 

“  Here  is  a  boy  that  says  he  wants  to  see 
Aunt  Eliza.” 

“  What  can  he  want  with  her  ?  ” 

“  I  asked  him  but  he  won’t  tell.” 

“I  must  trouble  him  to  tell  me,”  said  Mrs. 
Tracy,  closing  her  thin  mouth  with  a  snap. 

“Like  mother — like  son,”  thought  Luke. 

“Ho  you  hear?”  demanded  Mrs.  Tracy 
unpleasantly. 

“  I  am  here  by  Mrs.  Merton’s  appointment, 
Mrs.  Tracy,”  said  Luke,  firmly.  “  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  her  informed  that  I  have  arrived.” 

“And  who  are  you,  I  may  ask  ?  ” 

“  Perhaps  you’ve  got  your  card  about  you,” 
sneered  Harold. 

“  I  have,”  answered  Luke  quietly. 


LUKE  HAS  A  COOL  RECEPTION. 


117 


With  a  comical  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  offered 
one  to  Harold. 

“  Luke  Walton,”  repeated  Tom. 

“  Yes,  that  is  my  name.” 

“I  don’t  think  my  aunt  will  care  to  see 
you,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy,  who  was  getting  pro¬ 
voked  with  the  “  upstart  boy,”  as  she  men¬ 
tally  termed  him. 

“  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  let  her  know 
I  am  here.” 

6 1  It  is  quite  unnecessary.  I  will  take  the 
responsibility.” 

Luke  was  quite*  in  doubt  as  to  what  he 
ought  to  do.  He  could  not  very  well  prevent 
Harold’s  closing  the  door,  in  obedience  to  his 
mother’s  direction,  but  fortunately  the  matter 
was  taken  out  of  his  hands  by  the  old  lady 
herself,  who,  unobserved  by  Harold  and  his 
mother,  had  been  listening  to  the  conversa¬ 
tion  from  the  upper  landing.  When  she 
saw  her  visitor  about  to  be  turned  out  of  the 
house,  she  thought  it  quite  time  to  interfere. 

“  Louisa,”  she  called,  in  a  tone  of  displeas¬ 
ure,  “you  will  oblige  me  by  not  meddling 
with  my  visitors.  Luke,  come  upstairs.” 


118 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Luke  could  not  forbear  a  smile  of  triumph 
as  he  passed  Harold  and  Mrs.  Tracy,  and 
noticed  the  look  of  discomfiture  on  their 
faces.  . 

u  I  didn’t  know  he  was  your  visitor,  Aunt 
Eliza,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy,  trembling  with  the 
anger  she  did  not  venture  to  display  before 
her  wealthy  relative. 

44  Didn’t  he  say  so?”  asked  Mrs.  Merton 
sharply. 

44  Yes,  but  I  was  not  sure  he  was  not  an 
impostor.” 

44  You  had  only  to  refer  the  matter  to  me, 
and  I  could  have  settled  the  question.  Luke 
is  in  my  employ — ” 

4  4  In  your  employ  ?  ’  ’  repeated  Mrs.  Tracy,  in 
surprise. 

44  Yes  ;  he  will  do  errands  for  me,  and  some¬ 
times  accompany  me  to  the  city.” 

4 ‘Why  didn’t  you  call  on  Harold?  He 
would  be  very  glad  to  be  of  service  to 
you.” 

Certainly  Harold’s  looks  belied  his  mother’s 
promise  for  him. 

4  4  Harold  had  other  things  to  occupy  him.  I 


LUKE  HAS  A  COOL  RECEPTION. 


119 


prefer  tlie  other  arrangement.  Luke,  come 
into  my  room  and  I  will  give  you  direc¬ 
tions.”  • 

Mrs.  Tracy  and  Harold  looked  at  each  other 
as  Luke  and  the  old  lady  disappeared. 

u This  is  a  new  freak  of  Aunt  Eliza’s,”  said 
Mrs.  Tracy.  “  Why  does  she  pass  over  you, 
and  give  the  preference  to  this  upstart 
boy?” 

“ I  don’t  mind  that,  mother,”  replied  Har¬ 
old.  “  I  don’t  want  to  be  dancing  attendance 
on  an  old  woman.” 

“  But  she  may  take  a  fancy  to  this  boy — she 
seems  to  have  done  so  already — and  give 
him  part  of  the  money  that  ought  to  be 
yours.” 

“If  we  find  there  is  any  danger  of  that,  I 
guess  we  are  smart  enough  to  set  her  against 
him.  Let  her  have  the  boy  for  a  servant  if 
she  wishes.” 

“I  don’t  know  but  you  are  right,  Harold. 
We  must  be  very  discreet,  for  Aunt  Eliza  is 
worth  half  a  million.” 

“  And  how  old  is  she,  mother  1  ” 

“  Seventy-one.” 


120 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“ That’s  pretty  old.  She  can’t  live  many 
years.” 

“I  hope  she  will  live  to  a  good  old  age,” 
said  Mrs.  Tracy  hypocritically,  “  but  when  she 
dies,  it  is  only  fair  that  we  should  have  her 
money.” 


\ 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  WELCOME  GIFT. 

HEX  Luke  and  Mrs.  Merton  were  alone, 


V  V  the  old  lady  said,  with  a  smile,  “  You 
seemed  to  have  some  difficulty  in  getting  into 
the  house.” 

“Yes,”  answered  Luke.  “I  don’t  think 
your  nephew  likes  me.” 

“  Probably  not.  Both  he  and  his  mother 
are  afraid  some  one  will  come  between  me  and 
them.  They  are  selfish,  and  can  not  under¬ 
stand  how  I  can  have  any  other  friends  or 
beneficiaries.  You  are  surprised  that  I  speak 
so  openly  of  such  near  relatives  to  such  a  com¬ 
parative  stranger.  However,  it  is  my  nature 
to  be  outspoken.  And  now,  Luke,  if  you 
don’t  think  it  will  be  tiresome  to  escort  an 
old  woman,  I  mean  to  take  you  down  town 
with  me.” 

“  I  look  upon  you  as  a  kind  friend,  Mrs. 


121 


122 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Merton,”  responded  Luke  earnestly.  “I 
want  to  thank  you  for  the  handsome  present 
you  made  me  yesterday.  I  didn’t  expect  any¬ 
thing  like  ten  dollars.” 

“You  will  find  it  acceptable,  however,  I 
don’t  doubt.  Seriously,  Luke,  I  don’t  think 
it’s  too  much  to  pay  for  saving  my  life.  Now, 
if  you  will  wait  here  five  minutes,  I  will  then 
be  ready  to  go  out  with  you.” 

Five  minutes  later  Mrs.  Merton  came  into 
the  room  attired  for  the  street.  They  went 
down-stairs  together,  and  Luke  and  she  got  on 
board  a  street  car. 

They  were  observed  by  Mrs.  Tracy  and 
Harold  as  they  left  the  house. 

“Aunt  Eliza’s  very  easily  imposed  upon,” 
remarked  the  latter. 

“  She  scarcely  knows  anything  of  that  boy, 
and  she  has  taken  him  out  with  her.  How 
does  she  know  but  he  is  a  thief  ?  ” 

“He  looks  like  one,”  said  Harold,  in  an 
amiable  tone.  “If  aunt  is  robbed  I  shan’t 
pity  her.  She  wull  deserve  it.” 

“  Yery  true  ;  but  you  must  remember  that  it 
will  be  our  loss  as  wTell  as  hers.  Her  property 


A  WELCOME  GIFT. 


123 


will  rightfully  come  to  us,  and  if  she  is  robbed 
we  shall  inherit  so  much  the  less.” 

“  You’re  sharp,  mother.  I  didn’t  think  of 
that.” 

“I  have  been  thinking,  Harold,  it  may  be 
well  for  you  to  find  out  something  of  this  boy. 
If  you  can  prove  to  Aunt  Eliza  that  he  is  of 
bad  character,  she  will  send  him  adrift.” 

“ I’ll  see  about  it,  mother.  I  don’t  like  him 
at  all.” 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Merton  and  Luke  were  on 

V 

their  way  to  the  business  portion  of  the  city. 

“I  think  we  will  stop  at  Adams  Street, 
Luke,”  said  the  old  lady.  u  I  shall  have  to  go 
to  the  Continental  Bank.  Do  you  know  where 
it  is?” 

‘  ‘  I  believe  it  is  on  La  Salle  Street,  corner  of 
Adams.” 

L  4  Quite  right.  I  shall  introduce  you  to  the 
paying  teller  as  in  my  employ,  as  I  may  have 
occasion  to  send  you  there  alone  at  times  to 
deposit  or  draw  money.” 

From  where  the  car  left  them  the  old  lady 
walked  with  Luke  to  the  bank. 

“I  wish  Harold  wras  more  like  you,”  she 


124 


LUKE  WALTON. 


said.  “  His  mother’s  suggestion  that  I  should 
take  him  with  me  as  an  escort  would  be  just 
as  disagreeable  to  him  as  to  me.” 

“  Is  he  attending  school  ?  ”  asked  Luke. 

“  Yes.  He  is  preparing  for  college,  but  he  is 
not  fond  of  study,  and  I  doubt  whether  he 
ever  enters.  I  think  he  must  be  about  your 
age.  ’  ’ 

“I  am  nearly  sixteen.” 

“Then  he  is  probably  a  little  older.” 

They  entered  the  bank,  and  Mrs.  Merton, 
going  to  the  window  of  the  paying  teller,  pre¬ 
sented  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars. 

“How  will  you  have  it,  Mrs.  Merton?” 
asked  the  teller. 

“  In  fives  and  tens.  By  the  way,  Mr.  North¬ 
rop,  please  take  notice  of  this  boy  with  me.  I 
shall  occasionally  send  him  by  himself  to  at¬ 
tend  to  my  business.  His  name  is  Luke 
Walton.” 

‘  ‘  His  face  looks  familiar.  I  think  we  have 
met  before.” 

‘  ‘  I  have  sold  you  papers  more  than  once, 
Mr.  N orthrop,  ’  ’  said  Luke.  ‘  ‘  I  stand  on  Clark 
Street,  near  the  Sherman.” 


A  WELCOME  GIFT. 


125 


“  Yes,  I  remember  now.  We  bank  officials 
are  apt  to  take  notice  of  faces.” 

“  Here,  Luke,  carry  tliis  money  for  me,”  said 
Mrs.  Merton,  putting  a  lady's  pocketbook  into 
the  hand  of  her  young  escort.  “  You  are  less 
likely  to  be  robbed  than  I.” 

Luke  was  rather  pleased  at  the  full  confi¬ 
dence  his  new  employer  seemed  to  repose  in 
him. 

t  \ 

“  I  am  going  up  on  State  Street,”  said  Mrs. 
Merton,  as  they  emerged  into  the  street.  “You 
know  the  store  of  Marshall  Field  \  ’  ’ 

“Oh,  yes!  everybody  in  Chicago  knows 
that.” 

“  I  am  going  there.” 

For  a  lady  of  her  years,  Mrs.  Merton  was  a 
fair  walker.  In  a  few  minutes  they  stood  be- 

t 

fore  the  large  store,  and  Mrs.  Merton  entered, 
followed  by  Luke. 

Mrs.  Merton  went  to  that  part  of  the  estab¬ 
lishment  where  woolens  were  sold,  and  pur¬ 
chased  a  dress  pattern.  To  Luke’s  surprise 
the  salesman  who  waited  upon  her  was  the 
same  one  who  had  come  to  his  assistance 
in  the  car  the  day  previous  when  he  was 


126 


LUKE  WALTON. 


charged  with  stealing.  The  recognition  was 
mutual. 

“I  believe  we  have  met  before,”  said  the 
young  man  with  a  smile. 

“  Yes,  fortunately  for  me,”  answered  Luke, 
gratefully. 

“The  two  parties  who  were  determined  to 
find  you  guilty  looked  foolish  when  they  ascer¬ 
tained  the  real  character  of  your  accuser.” 

“  What  is  this,  Luke?  You  didn’t  tell  me 
of  it,”  said  Mrs.  Merton. 

The  story  was  related  briefly. 

“I  should  like  to  meet  that  woman,”  said 
Mrs.  Merton,  nodding  energetically.  “I’d 
give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind.  Luke,  you  may 
hand  me  ten  dollars.” 

The  goods  were  wrapped  up  and  the  change 
returned. 

“Where  shall  I  send  the  bundle,  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton  ?  ’  ’  asked  the  salesman  deferentially. 

“Luke  will  take  it.” 

As  they  left  the  store,  Mrs.  Merton  said : 
“Did  you  think  I  was  buying  this  dress  for 
myself,  Luke?” 

“  I  thought  so,”  Luke  answered. 


A  WELCOME  GIFT. 


127 


“  No,  I  have  dresses  enough  to  last  me  a  life¬ 
time,  I  may  almost  say.  This  dress  pattern  is 
for  your  mother.” 

“For  my  mother?”  repeated  Luke  joy¬ 
fully. 

“  Yes  ;  I  hope  it  will  be  welcome.” 

“Indeed  it  will.  Mother  hasn’t  had  a  new 
dress  for  over  a  year.” 

“  Then  I  guessed  right.  Give  it  to  her  with 
my  compliments,  and  tell  her  that  I  give  it  to 
her  for  your  sake.  Now  I  believe  I  will  go 
home.” 

No  present  made  to  Luke  could  have  given 

him  so  much  pleasure  as  this  gift  to  his  mother, 

for  he  knew  how  much  she  stood  in  need  of  it. 

When  they  reached  the  house  on  Prairie 

Avenue,  they  met  Mrs.  Tracy  on  the  steps. 

She  had  been  out  for  a  short  call. 

“  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  morning,  Aunt 

Eliza?  ”  she  asked,  quite  ignoring  Luke. 

“Yes,  quite  so.  Luke,  I  won’t  trouble  you 

to  come  in.  I  shall  not  need  you  to-morrow. 

•/ 

The  next  day  you  may  call  at  the  same  hour.” 

Luke  turned  away,  but  was  called  back 
sharply  by  Mrs.  Tracy. 


128 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  Boy,”  said  she,  44  you  are  taking  away  my 
aunt’s  bundle.  Bring  it  back  directly.” 

44  Louisa,”  said  the  old  lady,  “  don’t  trouble 
yourself.  That  bundle  is  meant  for  Luke’s 
mother.” 

“  Something  you  bought  for  her  ?  ” 

44  Yes,  a  dress  pattern.” 

44  Oh!  ”  sniffed  Mrs.  Tracy,  eyeing  Luke  with 
strong  disapproval.  44  Do  you  know  anything 
about  this  boy  ?  ’  ’  she  asked,  as  they  entered 
the  house. 

“Yes.  Why?” 

“I  hope  he  won’t  impose  upon  you.” 

44  Thank  you.  I  am  not  a  child,  Louisa.” 

“The  boy  looks  artful.” 

“  I  can’t  say  much  for  your  discrimination.” 

4  4  If  anything  happens,  you  will  remember 
that  I  warned  you.” 

44 1  shall  remember,”  said  the  old  lady,  with 
an  amused  smile. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THOMAS  BROWNING  AT  HOME. 

X  one  of  the  handsomest  streets  in  Milwau- 


-J-  kee  stood  a  private  residence  which  was 
quite  in  harmony  with  its  surroundings.  It 
looked  like  the  home  of  a  man  of  ample  means. 
It  was  luxuriously  furnished,  and  at  one  side 
was  a  conservatory.  It  was  very  apt  to  attract 
the  attention  of  strangers,  and  the  question 
was  frequently  asked — “  Who  lives  there 

And  the  answer  would  be  “  Thomas  Brown¬ 
ing,  one  of  our  most  prominent  citizens.  He 
will  probably  be  mayor  some  day.” 

Yes,  this  was  the  residence  of  Thomas 
Browning,  formerly  Thomas  Butler,  the  man 
to  whom  the  dead  father  of  Luke  Walton  had 
intrusted  the  sum  of  ten  thousand  dollars  to 
carry  to  his  wife  and  children.  How  he  ful¬ 
filled  his  trust,  or  rather  did  not  fulfill  it,  we 
already  know.  But  in  Milwaukee,  where  Mr. 

Browning  had  become  a  leading  citizen,  it  was 
9  129 


130 


LUKE  WALTON. 


not  known.  It  was  entirely  inconsistent  with 
what  was  believed  to  be  his  character  ;  for 
Mr.  Browning  was  considered  a  philanthropist. 
He  was  president  of  one  charitable  society,  and 
treasurer  of  another.  At  the  annual  meetings 
of  these  societies  he  was  always  called  upon  to 
speak,  and  his  allusions  to  the  poverty  and 
privations  of  those  who  were  cared  for  by  these 
societies  never  failed  to  produce  an  impres¬ 
sion. 

“  What  a  good  man  he  is !  ”  said  many  who 
listened  with  sympathetic  interest. 

It  was  popularly  supposed  that  he  gave  away 
large  sums  in  charity.  Indeed  he  admitted 
the  fact,  but  explained  the  absence  of  his  name 
from  subscription  papers  by  saying :  “  All  my 
gifts  are  anonymous.  Instead  of  giving  my 
name  I  prefer  to  put  down  6  Cash,’  so  much, 
or  CA  Friend,’  such  another  sum.  I  don’t 
wish  to  influence  others,  but  it  jars  upon  me  to 
have  my  name  ostentatiously  paraded  in  the 
public  prints.” 

Now,  in  all  subscriptions  there  are  donations 
ascribed  to  “Cash”  and  “A  Friend,”  and 
whenever  these  occurred  it  was  generally  sup- 


THOMAS  BROWNING  AT  HOME. 


131 


posed  that  they  represented  Mr.  Browning. 
But  to  let  the  reader  into  a  little  secret,  this 
was  only  a  shrewd  device  of  Mr.  Browning’s 
to  have  the  reputation  of  a  philanthropist  at 
little  or  no  expense,  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  never  contributed  at  alt  ! 

In  a  pleasant  room  on  the  second  floor  sat 
the  pseudo-philanthropist.  The  room  vms  fur¬ 
nished  as  a  library.  At  a  writing-table,  por¬ 
ing  over  what  looked  like  an  account-book,  he 
looked  the  picture  of  comfort  and  respectabil¬ 
ity.  A  few  well-chosen  engravings  adorned 
the  walls.  A  pleasant  light  was  diffused  about 
the  room  from  a  chandelier  suspended  over 
the  table. 

Thomas  Browning  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  a  placid  smile  overspread  his  naturally 
harsh  features.  He  looked  about  him,  and  his 
thoughts  somehow  ran  back  to  a  time  when  he 
was  very  differently  situated. 

4 ‘  Five  years  ago  to-night,”  he  said,  “  I  was 
well-nigh  desperate.  I  hadn’ t  a  cent  to  bless 
myself  with,  nor  was  the  prospect  of  getting 
one  particularly  bright.  How  I  lived  for  a 
considerable  time  I  hardly  know.  I  did  have 


132 


LUKE  WALTON. 


a  notion  at  one  time,  when  I  was  particularly 
down  on  my  luck,  of  committing  suicide,  and 
so  ending  the  struggle  once  for  all.  It  would 
have  been  a  great  mistake!”  he  added,  after 
a  pause.  “I  didn’t  foresee  at  the  time  the 
prosperous  years  that  lay  before  me.  Fred¬ 
erick  Walton’s  money  changed  my  whole  life. 
Ten  thousand  dollars  isn’t  a  fortune,  but  it 
proved  the  basis  of  one.  It  enabled  me  to 
float  the  Excelsior  Mine.  I  remember  there 
were  a  hundred  thousand  shares  at  two  dollars 
a  share,  all  based  upon  a  few  acres  of  mining 
land  which  I  bought  for  a  song.  With  the  ten 
thousand  dollars  I  hired  an  office,  printed  cir¬ 
culars,  distributed  glowing  accounts  of  imag¬ 
inary  wealth,  etc.  It  cost  considerable  for 
advertising,  but  I  sold  seventy  thousand 
shares,  and  when  I  had  gathered  in  the  money, 
I  let  the  bottom  fall  out.  There  was  a  great 
fuss,  of  course,  but  I  figured  as  the  largest 
loser,  being  the  owner  of  thirty  thousand 
shares  (for  which  I  hadn’t  paid  a  cent),  and  so 
shared  the  sympathy  extended  to  losers.  It 
was  a  nice  scheme,  and  after  deducting  all  ex¬ 
penses,  I  made  a  clean  seventy-five  thousand 


THOMAS  BROWNING  AT  HOME.  133 

) 

dollars  out  of  it,  which,  added  to  my  original 
capital,  made  eighty-five  thousand.  Then  I 
came  to  Milwaukee  and  bought  this  house. 
From  that  time  my  career  has  been  upward 
and  onward.  My  friends  say  I  shall  some 
day  be  mayor  of  the  city.  Well,  stranger 
things  have  happened.” 

At  this  moment  a  servant  entered  the 
library. 

“  Well,  Mary,  what  is  it  ?  ”  asked  the  phil¬ 
anthropist. 

“  Please,  sir,  there’s  a  poor  woman  is  at  the 
door,  and  would  like  to  see  vou.” 

“  Ah,  yes,  she  wants  relief  from  the  Wid¬ 
ows  and  Orphans’  Society  probably.  Well, 
send  her  up.  I  am  always  at  home  to  the 
poor.” 

“  What  a  good  man  he  is  !  ”  thought  Mary. 
4 4  It’s  strange  he  gives  such  low  wages  to  the 
girls  that  work  for  him.  He  says  it’s  because 
he  gives  away  so  much  money  in  chari¬ 
ties.” 

Mary  ushered  in  a  moment  later  a  woman  in 
a  faded  dress,  with  a  look  of  care  and  sorrow 
on  her  thin  features. 


184 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Take  a  seat,  madam,”  said  Thomas  Brown¬ 
ing,  urbanely/  “Did  you  wish  to  see  me?  ” 

“Yes,  sir.  I  am  in  difficulties,  and  I  have 
ventured  to  call  upon  you.” 

“  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  am  always  ready 
to  see  the  unfortunate.” 

“Yes,  sir;  I  know  you  have  the  reputation 
of  being  a  philanthropist.  ’  ’ 

“No,  no,”  said  Mr.  Browning  modestly. 
“Don’t  mention  it.  I  am  fully  aware  of  the 
flattering  estimation  which  is  placed  on  my 
poor  services,  but  I  really  don’t  deserve  it.  It 
is  perhaps  as  President  of  the  Widows  and 
Orphans’  Charitable  Society  that  you  wish  to 
speak  to  me.” 

“No,  sir.  It  is  as  President  of  the  Excel¬ 
sior  Mining  Company  that  I  wish  to  make  an 
appeal  to  you.” 

“  Oh  !  ”  ejaculated  Browning,  with  a  percep¬ 
tible  change  of  countenance. 

4  4  Of  course  you  remember  it,  sir.  I  was  a 
widow,  with  a  small  property  of  five  thousand 
dollars  left  me  by  my  late  husband.  It  was 
all  I  had  on  which  to  support  myself  and  two 
children.  The  banks  paid  poor  interest,  and  I 


THOMAS  BROWNING  AT  HOME. 


135 


was  in  search  of  a  profitable  investment.  One 
of  your  circulars  fell  into  my  hands.  The 
shares  were  two  dollars  each,  and  it  was 
stated  that  they  would  probably  yield  fifty 
per  cent,  dividends.  That  would  support  me 
handsomely.  But  I  didn’t  decide  to  invest  till 
I  had  written  a  private  letter  to  you.” 

She  took  it  from  the  pocket  of  her  dress, 
and  offered  it  to  Thomas  Browning,  but  that 
gentleman  waved  it  aside. 

She  continued:  “You  indorsed  all  that 
the  circular  contained.  You  said  that  within  a 
year  you  thought  the  shares  would  rise  to  at 
least  ten  dollars.  So  I  invested  all  the  money 
I  had.  You  know  what  followed.  In  six 
months  the  shares  went  down  to  nothing,  and 
I  found  myself  penniless.” 

“  I  know  it,  my  good  woman,”  said  Thomas 
Browning.  “  I  know  it  to  my  cost.  I  myself 
had  sixty  thousand  dollars  invested  in  the 
stock.  I  lost  it  all.” 

“But  you  seem  to  be  a  rich  man,”  said  the 
poor  woman,  looking  about  her. 

“  I  have  made  it  out  of  other  ventures.  But 
the  collapse  of  the  mine  was  a  sad  blow  to  me. 


136 


LUKE  WALTON. 


As  tlie  president,  I  might  have  had  something 
from  the  wreck,  but  I  did  not.  I  suffered  with 
the  rest.  Now  may  I  ask  what  I  can  do  for 
you  ?  ” 

4  4  It  was  on  account  of  your  advice  that  I 
bought  stock.  Don’ t  you  think  you  ought  to 
make  up  to  me  a  part  of  the  loss  ?  ” 

44  Impossible !  ”  said  Browning,  sharply. 
4 ‘Didn’t  I  tell  you  I  lost  much  more  heavily 
than  you  ?  ” 

4  4  Then  you  can  do  nothing  for  me  %  ” 

44  Yes  ;  I  can  put  you  on  the  pension  list  of 
the  Widows  and  Orphans’  Society.  That  will 
entitle  you  to  receive  a  dollar  a  week  for  three 
months.” 

44 1  am  not  an  object  of  charity,  sir.  I  wish 
you  good-night.” 

44  Good-night.  If  you  change  your  mind, 
come  to  me.” 

44  Very  unreasonable,  upon  my  word,”  solilo¬ 
quized  Thomas  Browning.  4  4 As  if  I  could 
afford  to  make  up  all  the  losses  of  stockholders. 
It  would  sweep  off  all  I  have.” 

At  eleven  o’clock  Mr.  Browning  went  to  his 
bed-chamber.  He  lit  the  gas,  and  was  prepar- 


THOMAS  BROWNING  AT  HOME. 


187 


ing  to  disrobe,  when  his  sharp  ears  detected  a 
sound  of  su£>pressed  breathing,  and  the  point 
from  which  it  proceeded.  He  walked  quickly 
to  the  bed,  bent  over,  and  looked  underneath. 
In  an  instant  he  had  caught  and  pulled  out,  not 
over  gently,  a  man  who  had  been  concealed 
beneath  it. 

The  intruder  was  a  wretchedly  dressed  tramp. 
Browning  allowed  the  man  to  get  upon  his  feet, 
and  then,  facing  him,  demanded  sternly,  “Why 
are  you  here  ?  Did  you  come  to  rob  me  \  ” 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A  STRANGE  VISITOR. 

<<-T”"\ID  you  come  here  to  rob  me?”  re- 

XJ  peated  Mr.  Browning,  as  he  stood 
facing  the  tramp  whom  he  had  brought  to 
light  from  under  the  bed. 

There  was  a  strong  contrast  between  the  two 
men.  One  was  a  well-dressed,  prosperous- 
looking  gentleman,  the  other  a  man  with  a 
beard  of  a  week’s  growth,  disordered  hair,  and 
soiled  garments. 

There  was  an  eager,  questioning  look  on  the 
face  of  the  tramp,  as  he  stared  at  the  gentle¬ 
man  upon  whose  privacy  he  had  intruded — 
not  a  look  of  fear,  but  a  look  of  curiosity. 
Thomas  Browning  misinterpreted  it.  He 
thought  the  man  was  speechless  from  alarm, 
and  rather  enjoyed  the  thought  that  he  had 
struck  terror  into  the  soul  of  a  would-be 
burglar. 


138 


A  STRANGE  VISITOK. 


139 


“Have  you  nothing  to  say  for  yourself?” 
demanded  Browning,  sternly. 

The  answer  considerably  surprised  him. 

“  Why,  pard,  it’s  you,  is  it  ?”  said  the  man, 
with  the  air  of  one  to  whom  a  mystery  was 
made  plain. 

‘ 4  What  do  you  mean  by  your  imperti¬ 
nence  ? 5  ’  asked  the  respectable  Mr.  Browning, 
angrily. 

“  Well,  that’s  a  good  one!  Who’d  have 
thought  that  this  ’ere  mansion  belonged  to  my 
old  friend  and  pard  ?  ” 

“  What  do  you  mean?  Are  you  crazy, 
fellow?” 

“  Ho,  I  ain’t  crazy  as  I  know  of,  but  I’m 
flabbergasted — that’s  what  I  am.” 

“Have  done  with  this  trifling,  and  tell  me 
why  I  shouldn’t  hand  you  over  to  the  police !  ” 

“  I  guess  you  won’t  do  that,  Tom  Butler  !  ” 
returned  the  burglar,  coolly. 

Browning  started  in  surprise  and  dismay  at 
hearing  his  old  name  pronounced  by  this 
unsavory  specimen  of  humanity. 

“  Who  are  you  ?  ”  he  demanded  quickly. 

“  Don’t  you  know  me  ?  ” 


140 


LUKE  WALTON. 


4 4 No,  I  don’t.  I  never  saw  you  before.  I 
don’t  associate  with  men  of  your  class.” 

“Hear  him  now!”  chuckled  the  tramp  in 
an  amazed  tone.  “Why,  Tom  Butler,  you  an' 
me  used  to  be  j>ards.  Don’t  you  remember 
Jack  King?  Why,  we’ve  bunked  together 
and  hunted  for  gold  together,  and  almost 
starved  together  ;  but  that  was  in  the  old 
days.” 

Browning  looked  the  amazement  he  felt. 

“Are  you  really  Jack  King?”  he  ejacu¬ 
lated,  sinking  back  into  an  easy-cliair,  and 
staring  hard  at  his  unexpected  visitor. 

“I’m  the  same  old  coon,  Tom,  but  I’m  down 
at  the  heel,  while  you — do  you  really  own  this 
fine  house,  and  these  elegant  fixin’s?” 

“Yes,”  answered  Browning  mechanically. 

“Well,  you’ve  fared  better  than  I.  I’ve 
been  goin’  down,  down,  till  I’ve  got  about  as 
far  down  as  I  can  get.” 

“And  you  have  become  a  burglar?” 

“Well,  a  man  must  live,  you  know.” 

“You  could  work.” 

“Who  would  give  such  a  lookin’  man  as  I 
am  work  ?  ’  ’ 


A  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


141 


“  How  did  you  get  in  %  ” 

u That’s  my  secret!  You  mustn’t  expect 
me  to  give  myself  away.” 

“And  you  had  no  idea  whose  house  you 
were  in?” 

“I  was  told  it  belonged  to  a  Mr.  Brown¬ 
ing.” 

“I  am  Mr.  Browning — Thomas  Browning.” 

“  You  !  What  has  become  of  Butler  \  ” 

“  I  had  good,  substantial  reasons  for  chang¬ 
ing  my  name — there  was  money  in  it,  you  un¬ 
derstand.” 

“  I’d  like  to  change  my  own  name  on  them 
terms.  And  now,  Tom  Butler,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  for  me  %  ” 

Mr.  Browning’s  face  hardened.  He  felt  no 
sympathy  for  the  poor  wretch  with  whom  he 
had  once  been  on  terms  of  intimacy.  He  felt 
ashamed  to  think  that  they  had  ever  been 
comrades,  and  he  resented  the  tone  of  famili¬ 
arity  with  which  this  outcast  addressed  him — 
a  reputable  citizen,  a  wealthy  capitalist,  a 
man  whose  name  had  been  more  than  once 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  mayor’s 
office. 


142 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  I’ll  tell  you  what  I  ought  to  do,”  he  said 
harshly. 

“Well?” 

4 4 1  ought  to  call  in  a  policeman,  and  give  you 
in  charge  for  entering  my  house  as  a  burglar.” 

The  tramp  whistled,  and  eyed  him  keenly. 

44  You’d  better  not  do  that,”  lie  said,  with¬ 
out  betraying  alarm. 

44  Why  not  ?  Why  should  I  not  treat  you 
like  any  other  burglar  ?  ” 

4  4  Because — but  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques¬ 
tion,”  and  the  tramp  unbidden  sank  into  an¬ 
other  easy-cliair  facing  that  of  the  owner  of 
the  mansion. 

44  What  did  you  do  with  that  money  Walton 
gave  you  on  his  death-bed  ?  ” 

A  look  of  surprise  and  alarm  overspread  the 
countenance  of  Thomas  Browning,  a  look 
which  was  not  lost  upon  the  tramp,  who  drew 
his  own  conclusion  therefrom. 

44  What  do  you  mean  ?  ”  he  faltered. 

44  Just  what  I  say.  What  did  you  do  with 
Walton’s  money  ?  ” 

44 1  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  your  mean¬ 
ing.” 


A  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


143 


“  No,  you  are  not.  However,  I  am  ready  to 
explain.  On  his  death-bed  Walton  gave  you 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  carry  to  his  wife  and 
family.  Did  you  do  it  ?” 

“  Who  told  you  of  this  ?  ” 

“It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say.  It  is 
enough  that  I  know  it.  At  the  time  you  were 
poor  enough.  You  might  have  had  a  few  hun¬ 
dred  dollars  of  your  own,  but  certainly  not 
much  more.  Now — it  isn’t  so  many  years 
ago — I  find  you  a  rich  man.  Of  course  I  have 
my  own  ideas  of  how  this  came  about.” 

“Do  you  mean  to  accuse  me  of  dishon¬ 
esty?”  demanded  Browning,  angrily. 

“  I  don’t  accuse  you  of  anything.  I  am  only 
thinking  of  what  would  be  natural  under  the 
circumstances.  I’m  not  an  angel  myself,  Tom 
Butler,  and  I  can’t  say  but  the  money  might 
have  miscarried,  if  it  had  been  handed  over 
to  me  instead  of  to  you.  I  wish  it  had  ;  I 
wouldn’t  be  the  miserable-looking  wretch  I 
am  now.” 

“Walton  handed  me  some  money,”  said 
Browning  cautiously — “not  ten  thousand 
dollars — and  I  handed  it  to  his  family.” 


144 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Where  did  they  live  ?  ” 

“In  a  country  town,”  he  answered  glibly. 
J ack  King  eyed  him  shrewdly.  He  was  a 
man  of  penetration,  and  he  understood  per¬ 
fectly  that  Browning  had  appropriated  the 

money  to  his  own  use. 

%/ 

“I  was  thinking  1  might  run  across  Mrs. 

•» 

Walton  some  day,”  he  said  significantly. 
“  She  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  as  I  knew 
her  late  husband  in  California.” 

“  She  is  dead  !  ”  said  Browning,  hastily. 

“  Dead  !  How  long  since  ?  ” 

“  She  died  soon  after  she  heard  of  her  hus¬ 
band’s  death.  Died  of  grief,  poor  woman  !  ” 

“  Were  there  no 'children  \  ” 

“  Yes  ;  there  was  a  gir],  but  she  was  adopted 
by  a  relative  in  Massachusetts.” 

“I  don’t  believe  a  word  of  it!”  thought 
Jack  King.  “  He  wants  to  put  me  off  the 
scent.” 

“Humph  !  And  you  gave  the  wife  the 
money  ?” 

“Of  course.” 

“  I  may  meet  the  girl  some  time  ;  I  might 
advertise  for  any  of  the  family.” 


A  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


145 


“  Do  you  think  the}7  would  be  glad  to  see 
you  ?  ” 

“They  might  help  me,  and  I  stand  in  need 
of  help.” 

“  There  is  no  need  of  that.  You  are  an  old 
comrade  in  distress.  I  haven’t  forgotten  the 
fact,  though  1  pretended  to,  to  try  you. 
Here’s  a  five-dollar  bill.  I’ll  let  you  out  of 
the  house  myself.  Considering  how  you  en¬ 
tered  it,  you  may  count  yourself  lucky.” 

u  That’s  all  right,  so  far  as  it  goes,  Tom,  but 
I  want  to  remind  you  of  a  little  debt  you  owe 
me.  When  you  were  out  of  luck  at  Murphy's 
diggings,  I  lent  you  twenty-five  dollars,  which 
you  have  never  paid  back.” 

“  I  had  forgotten  it.” 

“  I  haven’t.  That  money  will  come  mighty 
convenient  just  now.  It  will  buy  me  a  better¬ 
looking  suit,  second-hand,  and  make  a  differ¬ 
ent  man  of  me.  With  it  I  can  get  a  place,  and 
set  up  for  a  respectable  human  being.” 

“  Here’s  the  money,”  said  Browning,  reluc¬ 
tantly  drawing  the  additional  bills  from  his 
wallet.  “  Now  that  we  are  square,  I  hope  you 
won’t  annoy  me  by  further  applications.  I 


146 


LUKE  WALTON. 


might  have  sent  you  out  of  the  house  under 
very  different  circumstances.” 

“  You  were  always  considerate,  Tom,”  said 
the  tramp,  stowing  away  the  bills  in  the 
pocket  of  his  ragged  vest.  “May  I  refer  to 
you  if  I  apply  for  a  situation?” 

“Yes;  but  remember  I  am  now  Thomas 
Browning .  I  prefer  not  to  have  it  known  that 
my  name  was  ever  Butler.” 

“  All  right !  Now,  if  you’ll  do  me  the  favor 
of  showing  me  to  the  door — I  might  scare  a 
servant — I’ll  leave  you  to  your  slumbers.” 

“It’s  very  awkward,  that  man’s  turning 
up,”  muttered  Browning,  as  he  returned  from 
letting  out  his  unsavory  visitor.  “  How  could 
he  have  heard  about  Walton’s  money  ?  ” 


t 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


HOW  JACK  KINO  FAKED. 


JACK  KIXGr  left  the  house  with  the  money 
Browning  had  unwillingly  given  him.  He 
sought  a  cheap  lodging,  and  the  next  morning 
proceeded  to  make  himself  respectable.  When 
he  had  donned  some  clean  linen,  a  suit  of 
clothes  which  he  bought  cheap  at  a  second¬ 
hand  store,  taken  a  bath,  and  called  into  requi¬ 
sition  the  services  of  a  barber,  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  recognize  him  as  the  same  man 
who  had  emerged  from  under  the  bed  of  the 
well-known  philanthropist,  a  typical  tramp 
and  would-be  burglar. 

Jack  King  counted  over  the  balance  of  his 
money,  and  found  he  had  nine  dollars  and 
thirty-seven  cents  left. 

“This  won’t  support  me  forever,”  he  re¬ 
flected.  “  I  must  get  something  to  do.” 

While  sauntering  along  he  fell  in  with  an 

old  acquaintance  named  Stone. 

147 


148 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  What  are  you  up  to,  King  ?  ”  he  asked. 

44  Looking  for  a  job.” 

4 ‘You  are  my  man,  then.  I  am  keeping  a 
cigar  store  at  the  Prairie  Hotel,  but  I  have  some 
business  calling  me  away  from  the  city  for  six 
weeks  or  two  months.  Will  you  take  my 
place  ?  ” 

44  What  are  the  inducements?  ” 

4  4  Board  and  lodging  and  five  dollars  a  week.” 

44  Agreed.” 

4  4  Come  over  then,  and  I  will  show  you  the 
place.” 

The  hotel  was  a  cheap  one,  not  far  from  the 
railway  station,  and  though  comfortable,  was 
not  patronized  by  fastidious  travelers.  Jack 
King  looked  about  him  with  satisfaction.  To 
one  who  had  been  only  the  day  before  outside 
the  pale  of  respectability  it  afforded  a  welcome 
refuge  from  poverty  and  privation. 

44  When  do  you  want  me  to  take  hold  ?  ”  he 
asked. 

44  To-morrow.” 

44  All  right.” 

44  Come  round  at  ten  o’clock.  I  want  to 
leave  Milwaukee  in  the  afternoon,” 


HOW  JACK  KING  FARED. 


149 


“  There  is  great  virtue  in  a  respectable  suit 
and  appearance,”  thought  Jack  King.  “If 
Stone  had  met  me  yesterday  he  would  have 
steered  clear  of  me.  Now  that  I  have  got  my 
foot  on  the  ladder  of  respectability  I  will 
mount  higher  if  I  can.” 

King  could  not  help  reflecting  upon  the  ex¬ 
traordinary  prospect  of  his  old  comrade,  Tom 
Butler,  now  Thomas  Browning,  Esq. 

4 4  What  does  it  mean,  and  how  has  it  come 
about  ?  ”  he  asked  himself.  4 4  He  seemed  very 
uneasy  when  I  asked  him  about  Walton’s 
money.  I  believe  he  kept  it  himself.  I  wish 
I  knew.  If  I  could  prove  it,  it  would  be  a 
gold  mine  to  me.  I  must  make  inquiries,  and, 
if  possible,  find  out  Walton’s  family.” 

44  Do  you  know  anything  of  Thomas  Brown¬ 
ing?  ”  he  asked  Stone. 

4 4 The  philanthropist?  Yes.  What  of 
him?” 

44 1  called  on  him  last  evening.” 

Jack  did  not  think  it  best  to  mention  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  liis  visit. 

44  Indeed  !  How  did  you  know  him  ?  ” 

44  In  California.” 


150 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“I  suppose  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  for¬ 
tune  there.” 

“  Is  he  so  rich  then  %  ’  ’ 

“  Yes,  probably  worth  quarter  of  a  million.” 

This  was  an  exaggeration,  but  rich  men’s 
wealth  is  generally  overstated. 

“  How  does  he  stand  in  the  city  \  ” 

“First-class.  He  has  been  mentioned  for 
mayor.  I  shouldn’t  be  surprised  if  he  might 
get  the  office  some  day.” 

“He  has  certainly  been  very  lucky,”  re¬ 
marked  King  quietly. 

“I  should  say  so.  Was  he  rich  in  Cali¬ 
fornia  ?  ” 

“Not  when  I  knew  him.  At  one  time  there 
he  had  to  borrow  money  of  me.  He  paid  me 
back  last  evening.” 

“  He  is  on  the  top  of  the  ladder  now,  at  any 
rate.” 

“His  respectability  would  suffer  a  little,” 
thought  Jack  King,  “  if  I  could  prove  that  he 
had  appropriated  Walton’s  money.  I  must 
think  the  matter  over,  and  secure  some  infor¬ 
mation  if  I  can.” 

The  next  Sunday  evening  he  called  at  the 


HOW  JACK  KING  FARED. 


151 


house  of  the  philanthropist,  and  sent  in  his 
name. 

Thomas  Browning  went  himself  to  the  door. 
He  was  afraid  King  might  be  wearing  the  same 
disreputable  suit  in  which  he  had  made  his 
former  visit.  But  to  his  relief  his  visitor  looked 
quite  respectable. 

44  Bo  you  wish  to  see  me  ?  ”  he  asked. 

4  4  Yes  ;  but  only  for  a  social  call.  I  am  not 
acquainted  in  Milwaukee,  and  it  does  me  good 
to  see  an  old  friend  and  comrade.” 

4  4 1  have  not  much  time  to  spare,  but  come 
in.” 

They  went  into  the  philanthropist’s  library, 
formerly  described. 

4 4 Have  you  found  anything  to  do  ?”  asked 
Browning. 

44  Yes.” 

44  What  is  it?” 

King  answered  the  question. 

44  It  is  not  much,”  he  added,  4 4  but  will  do 
for  the  present.” 

4  4  At  any  rate  it  is  considerably  better  than 
entering  a  house  at  night,  and  hiding  under 
the  bed,”  said  Browning  dryly. 


152 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  So  it  is,”  answered  King,  smiling.  “  You 
must  make  allowance  for  my  destitute  condi¬ 
tion.  I  little  thought  that  I  was  in  the  house 
of  an  old  friend.  I  have  been  asking  about 
you,  Tom  Butler — I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Browning, 
and  I  find  that  you  stand  very  high  in  Milwau¬ 
kee.” 

A  shade  of  annoyance  showed  itself  on  the 
philanthropist’s  face  when  King  referred  to 
him  under  his  former  name,  but  when  his 
high  standing  was  referred  to  he  smiled  com¬ 
placently. 

“Yes,”  he  said,  “I  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  win  the  good  opinion  of  my  fellow- 
citizens.” 

“  Some  one  told  me  that  you  would  probably 
run  for  mayor  some  day.” 

“It  may  be.  I  have  been  sounded  on  the 
subject.” 

“The  worst  of  running  for  office  is,  that  if 
a  man  has  ever  done  anything  discreditable,  it 
is  sure  to  be  brought  out  against  him.” 

“I  hope  you  don’t  mean  to  imply  that  I 
have  ever  done  anything  discreditable,”  said 
Browning  sharply. 


HOW  JACK  KING  FARED. 


153 


4 ;  Oh  dear,  no  !  How  could  I  think  such  a 
thing  %  But  sometimes  false  charges  are 
brought.  If  you  have  ever  betrayed  a  trust, 
or  kept  money  belonging  to  another,  of  course 
it  would  hurt  you.” 

“Certainly  it  would,”  said  the  philanthro¬ 
pist,  his  voice  betraying  some  nervousness  ; 
“but  I  am  glad  to  say  that  my  conscience  is 
clear  on  that  point.” 

“  I  must  conciliate  this  fellow,  or  he  may  do 
me  some  harm,”  he  thought.  “I  wonder 
whether  he  means  anything.” 

“  By  the  way,  Jack,  let  me  send  for  a  bottle 
of  wine,”  he  added,  aloud.  “We’ll  drink  to 
the  memory  of  old  times.” 

“  With  all  my  heart,  Tom.  I  see  you’re  the 
right  sort.  When  you  are  nominated  for  office 
I  will  work  for  you.” 

Browning  smiled  graciously  on  his  visitor, 
and  the  interview  closed  pleasantly. 

“He’s  afraid  of  me  !  ”  thought  Jack,  as  he 
left  the  house.  “There’s  something  in  that 
Walton  affair  that  he  wants  to  hush  up.  It 
will  take  more  than  a  glass  of  wine  to  buy 
me  off.” 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  SENSATIONAL  INCIDENT. 


WHEN  Luke  brought  home  the  dress-pat¬ 
tern  his  mother  was  much  pleased. 

44  I  have  needed  a  dress  for  a  good  while,” 
she  said,  44  but  I  never  felt  that  I  could  spare 
the  money  to  buy  even  a  common  one.  The 
material  is  very  nice.” 

“It  cost  seventy-five  cents  a  yard.  I  was 
with  Mrs.  Merton  when  she  bought  it.” 

4 4 1  hope  you  didn’t  hint  to  Mrs.  Merton  that 
I  needed  one.” 

44  No,  that  isn’t  like  me,  mother,  but  I 
own  that  I  was  very  glad  that  she  thought 
of  it.” 

44  Please  tell  her  how  grateful  I  am.” 

44 1  will  certainly  do  so.  Now,  mother,  I 
want  you  to  have  it  made  up  at  once.  I  can 
spare  the  money  necessary.” 

44  It  will  cost  very  little.  I  will  have  it  cut 

by  a  dressmaker,  and  make  it  up  myself.  I 

154 


A  SENSATIONAL  INCIDENT. 


155 


hope  you  will  long  retain  the  friendship  of 
Mrs.  Merton.” 

u  It  won’t  be  my  fault  if  I  don’t.  But  I  can’t 
help  seeing  that  her  niece,  Mrs.  Tracy,  and 
Harold,  a  boy  about  my  age,  look  upon  me 
with  dislike.” 

“  Why  should  they  ?  I  don’t  see  how  any 
one  can  dislike  you.” 

“  You  are  my  mother,  and  are  prejudiced  in 
my  favor.  But  I  am  sure  they  have  no  reason 
to  dislike  me.  I  think,  however,  they  are 
jealous,  and  fear  the  old  lady  will  look  upon 
me  with  too  much  favor.  She  is  very  rich, 
I  hear,  and  they  expect  to  inherit  all  her 
fortune.” 

“  Money  makes  people  mean  and  unjust.” 

“  If  I  can  only  get  hold  of  some,  I’ll  run  the 
risk  of  that,”  said  Luke.  ‘‘I  should  feel  a 
good  deal  more '  comfortable  if  I  hadn’t  two 
enemies  in  the  house.  I  am  afraid  they  will 
try  to  set  the  old  lady  against  me.” 

“  Bo  your  duty,  my  son,  and  leave  the  rest 
to  God.  It  isn’t  well  to  borrow  trouble.” 

uYo  doubt  you  are  right,  mother.  I  will 
follow  your  advice.” 


156 


LUKE  WALTON. 


The  next  morning  Luke  was  at  his  usual 
stand  near  the  Sherman  House,  when  a  boy 
who  was  passing  uttered  a  slight  exclamation 
of  surprise.  Looking  up,  Luke  recognized 
Harold  Tracy. 

“  So  it’s  you,  is  it?”  said  Harold,  not  over- 
politely. 

“  Yes,”  answered  Luke.  “  I  hope  you  are 
well.” 

“  I  didn’t  know  you  were  a  newsboy.” 

“ I  spend  a  part  of  my  time  in  selling 
papers.” 

“Does  Mrs.  Merton  know  you  are  a  news¬ 
boy?” 

‘  ‘  I  think  I  have  told  her,  but  I  am  not  cer¬ 
tain.” 

/ 

“  It  must  be  inconvenient  to  you  to  come  so 
far  as  our  house  every  day.” 

“  Of  course  it  takes  up  some  time,  but  Mrs. 
Merton  does  not  allow  me  to  work  for  noth¬ 
ing.” 

* 

6 ‘How  much  does  Aunt  Eliza  pay  you?” 
asked  Harold,  his  face  showing  the  curiosity 
he  felt. 

“  I  would  rather  you  would  ask  Mrs.  Mer- 


A  SENSATIONAL  INCIDENT. 


157 


ton.  I  am  not  sure  whether  she  would  care  to 
have  me  tell.” 

“You  seem  to  forget  that  I  am  her 
nephew — that  is,  her  grandnephew.  It  is 
hardly  likely  she  would  keep  such  a  thing 
secret  from  me.” 

“That  may  be,  but  I  would  rather  you 
would  ask  her.” 

“  Does  she  pay  you  more  than  two  dollars  a 
week  ?  ’  ’ 

“  Again  I  must  refer  you  to  her.” 

“  It  is  ridiculous  to  make  a  secret  of  such  a 
trifle,”  said  Harold,  annoyed. 

Luke  did  not  feel  bound  to  make  any  reply, 
and  Harold’s  curiosity  manifested  itself  in  an¬ 
other  way. 

“  How  much  do  you  make  selling  papers  %  ” 
he  asked. 

“I  averaged  about  seventy-five  cents  a  day 
before  I  began  to  work  for  Mrs.  Merton.  Now 
I  don’t  make  as  much.” 

“  Why  don’t  you  black  boots  too  ?  Many  of 
the  newsboys  do.” 

“I  never  cared  to  take  up  that  busi¬ 
ness.” 


158 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  If  you  should  go  into  it,  I  would  give  you 

/ 

a  job  now  and  then.” 

“  I  am  not  likely  to  go  into  that  business, 
but  I  shall  be  glad  to  sell  you  a  paper  when¬ 
ever  you  need  one.” 

“  You  are  not  too  proud  to  black  boots,  are 
you  ?  ”  persisted  Harold. 

“  I  don’t  think  it  necessary  to  answer  that 
question.  I  have  always  got  along  without  it 
so  far.” 

Harold  carried  the  news  home  to  his  mother 

I  i 

that  Luke  was  a  newsboy,  and  Mrs.  Tracy 
found  an  opportunity  to  mention  it  at  the  sup¬ 
per  table. 

‘  ‘  Harold  saw  your  paragon  this  morning, 
Aunt  Eliza,”  she  commenced. 

“  Have  I  a  paragon  ?  I  really  wasn’t  aware 
of  it,”  returned  the  old  lady. 

“  Your  errand-boy.” 

“Oh,  Luke.  Where  did  you  see  him, 
Harold  ?  ” 

“He  was  selling  papers  near  the  jrman 
House.” 

“  I  hope  you  bought  one  of  him  ?  ” 

“I  didn’t  have  any  change.” 


A  SENSATIONAL  INCIDENT.  159 

44  Did  you  know  lie  was  a  newsboy,  Aunt 
Eliza?”  asked  Mrs.  Tracy. 

44  Yes  ;  lie  told  me  so.  You  speak  of  it  as  if 
it  were  something  to  his  discredit.” 

“It  is  a  low  business,  of  course.” 

4 4  Why  is  it  a  low  business  ?  ’  ’ 

44  Oh,  well,  of  course  it  is  only  poor  street 
boys  who  engage  in  it.” 

4  4 1  am  aware  that  Luke  is  poor,  and  that  he 
has  to  contribute  to  the  support  of  his  mother 
and  brother.  I*  hope  if  you  were  poor  that 
Harold  would  be  willing  to  work  for  you.” 

44 1  wouldn’t  sell  papers,”  put  in  Harold 
decidedly. 

44 1  don’t  suppose  Luke  sells  papers  from 
choice.” 

44  Aunt  Eliza,  I  don’t  see  why  you  should  so 
persistently  compare  Harold  with  that  ragged 
errand-boy  of  yours.” 

4  4  Is  he  ragged  ?  I  am  glad  you  noticed  it. 
I  must  help  him  to  a  new  suit.” 

This  was  far  from  a  welcome  suggestion  to 
Mrs.  Tracy,  and  she  made  haste  to  add  :  44  I 
don’t  think  he’s  ragged.  He  dresses  well 
enough  for  his  position  in  life.” 


160 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Still  1  think  he  needs  some  new  clothes, 
and  I  thank  yon  for  suggesting  it,  Louisa.” 

44  What  a  provoking  woman  Aunt  Eliza  is  !  ” 
said  Mrs.  Tracy  to  herself.  “  Sometimes  I 
wish  I  could  slap  her,  she  is  so  contrary  and 
perverse.” 

The  next  day,  Luke  to  his  surprise,  was 
asked  to  accompany  Mrs.  Merton  to  a  ready¬ 
made  clothing  house  on  Clark  Street,  where  he 
was  presented  with  a  fine  suit,  costing  twenty 
dollars. 

4  4  How  kind  you  are,  Mrs.  Merton !  ’  ■  said  Luke. 

44  I  didn’t  notice  that  you  needed  a  new 
suit,”  returned  the  old  lady,  4 4  but  my  niece, 
Mrs.  Tracy,  spoke  of  it,  and  I  was  glad  to  take 
the  hint.’  ’ 

Luke  was  more  astonished  than  ever.  Was 
it  possible  that  Mrs.  Tracy,  who,  he  supposed, 
disliked  him.  should  so  have  interested  herself 
in  his  behalf  ?  It  was  hard  to  believe.  There 
was  a  smile  on  Mrs.  Merton’s  face  that 
strengthened  his  incredulity,  and  he  refrained 
from  expressing  his  thanks  to  Mrs.  Tracy 
when  he  met  her. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  that 


A  SENSATIONAL  INCIDENT. 


161 


Luke,  having  an  errand  that  carried  him  near 
the  lake  shore,  strolled  to  the  end  of  North 
Pier.  He  was  fond  of  the  water,  but  seldom 
had  an  opportunity  to  go  out  on  it. 

“  How  are  you,  Luke  ?  ”  said  a  boy  in  a  flat 
bottomed  boat  a  few  rods  away. 

In  the  boy  who  hailed  him  Luke  recognized 
John  Hogan,  an  acquaintance  of  about  his 
own  age. 

“  Won’t  you  come  aboard  asked  John. 

“  I  don’t  mind,  if  you’ll  come  near  enough.” 

In  five  minutes  Luke  found  himself  on  board 
the  boat.  He  took  the  oars  and  relieved  John, 
who  was  disposed  to  rest. 

They  rowed  hither  and  thither,  never  very 
far  from  the  pier.  Not  far  away  was  a  boat 
of  the  same  build,  occupied  by  a  man  of  mid¬ 
dle  size,  whose  eccentric  actions  attracted  their 
attention.  Now  he  would  take  the  oars  and 
row  with  feverish  haste,  nearly  fifty  strokes  to 
a  minute,  then  he  would  let  his  oars  trail,  and 
seem  wrapped  in  thought.  Suddenly  the  boys 
were  startled  to  see  him  sx>ring  to  his  feet, 

and  flinging  up  his  arms  leap  head-first  into 

« 

the  lake, 
ll 


CHAPTER  XX. 


AMBROSE  KEAN  S  IMPRUDENCE. 


LUKE  and  his  companion  were  startled  by 
the  sudden  attempt  at  suicide,  and  for 
an  instant  sat  motionless  in  their  boat.  Luke 
was  the  first  to  regain  his  self-possession. 

“Quick,  let  us  try  to  save  him,”  he  called 
to  John  Hogan. 

They  plunged  their  oars  into  the. water,  and 
the  boat  bounded  over  the  waves.  Fortunately 
they  were  but  half  a  dozen  rods  from  the  place 
where  the  would-be  suicide  was  now  struggling 
to  keep  himself  up.  For,  as  frequently  hap¬ 
pens,  when  he  actually  found  himself  in  the 
water,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  impelled 
the  would-be  self -destroyer  to  attempt  to  save 
himself.  He  could  swim  a  very  little,  but  the 
waters  of  the  lake  were  in  lively  motion,  his 
boat  had  floated  away,  and  he  would  infallibly 

have  drowned  but  for  the  energetic  action  of 

162 


AMBROSE  KEAN’S  IMPRUDENCE. 


163 


Luke  and  John.  They  swept  their  boat  along¬ 
side,  and  Luke  thrust  his  oar  in  the  direction 
of  the  struggling  man. 

4  4  Take  hold  of  it,  ’  ’  he  said,  4  4  and  we  will 
tow  you  to  your  own  boat.” 

Guided  and  sustained  by  the  oar,  the  man 
gripped  the  side  of  Luke’s  boat,  leaving  the 
oar  free.  His  weight  nearly  overbalanced  the 
craft,  but  with  considerable  difficulty  the  boys 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  other  boat,  and, 
though  considerably  exhausted,  its  late  occu¬ 
pant  managed  to  get  in. 

As  he  took  his  place  in  the  boat  he  presented 
a  sorry  spectacle,  for  his  clothes  were  wet 
through  and  dripping. 

44  You  will  take  your  death  of  cold  unless 
you  go  on  shore  at  once,”  said  Luke. 

44  It  wouldn’t  matter  much  if  I  did,”  said 
the  young  man  gloomily. 

44  We  will  row  to  shore  also,”  said  Luke  to 
John  Hogan.  44  He  may  make  another  attempt 
to  drown  himself.  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  to 
reason  him  out  of  it.” 

They  were  soon  at  the  pier,  and  the  three 
landed. 


164 


LUKE  WALTON.  \ 

4  4  Where  do  you  live  ?  ’  ’  asked  Luke,  taking 
his  position  beside  the  young  man. 

The  latter  named  a  number  on  Vine 
Street.  It  was  at  a  considerable  distance  and 
time  was  precious,  for  the  young  man  was 
trembling  from  the  effects  of  his  immer¬ 
sion. 

44  There  is  no  time  to  lose.  We  must  take  a 
carriage,”  said  Luke. 

He  summoned  one,  which  fortunately  had 
just  returned  from  the  pier,  to  which  it  had 
conveyed  a  passenger,  and  the  two  jumped  in. 
The  young  man  lay  back  in  his  seat,  and  re¬ 
mained  sad  and  silent. 

Luke  helped  him  up  to  his  room,  a  small  one 
on  the  third  ffoor,  and  remained  until  he  had 
changed  his  clothes,  and  was  reclining  on  the 
bed. 

44  You  ought  to  have  some  hot  drink,”  he 
said.  44  Can  any  be  got  in  the  house  ?  ” 

44  Yes ;  Mrs.  Woods,  the  landlady,  will  have 
some  hot  water.” 

Luke  went  downstairs,  and  succeeded  in  en¬ 
listing  the  sympathetic  assistance  of  the  kind- 
hearted  woman  by  representing  that  her  lodger 


AMBROSE  KEAN’S  IMPRUDENCE.  165 


had  been  upset  in  the  lake,  and  was  in  danger 
of  a  severe  cold. 

When  the  patient  had  taken  down  a  cup  of 
hot  drink,  he  turned  to  Luke  and  said  :  “  How 
can  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  ?  ” 

u  There  is  no  need  to  thank  me.  I  am  glad 
I  was  at  hand  when  you  needed  me.’ 5 

“  What  is  your  name  ?  ” 

“  Luke  Walton.” 

“  Mine  is  Ambrose  Kean.  You  must  think 
I  am  a  fool.” 

“I  think,”  said  Luke  gently,  ‘ 4 that  you 
have  some  cause  of  unhappiness.” 

“  You  are  right  there.  I  have  been  unfortu¬ 
nate,  but  I  am  also  an  offender  against  the  law, 
and  it  was  the  fear  of  exposure  and  arrest  that 
made  me  take  the  step  I  did.  I  thought  I  was 
ready  to  die,  but  when  I  found  myself  in  the 
water  life  seemed  dearer  than  it  had  before, 
and  I  tried  to  escape.  Thanks  to  you  I  am 
alive,  but  now  I  almost  wish  that  I  had  suc¬ 
ceeded.  I  don’t  know  how  to  face  what  is  be¬ 
fore  me.” 

t 

“  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  it  is  ?  ” 

“  Yo  ;  I  need  some  one  to  confide  in,  and 


i 


166  LUKE  WALTON. 

yon  deserve  my  confidence.  Let  me  tell  yon, 
then,  that  I  am  employed  in  an  office  on  Dear¬ 
born  Street.  My  pay  is  small — twelve  dollars 
a  week — bnt  it  wonld  be  enongh  to  support  me 
if  I  had  only  myself  to  look  out  for.  Bnt  I 
have  a  mother  in  Milwaukee,  and  I  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  sending  her  four  dollars  a  week. 
That  left  me  only  eight  dollars,  which  I  found 
it  hard  to  live  on,  and  there  was  nothing  left 
for  clothes.” 

“  I  can  easily  believe  that,”  said  Luke. 

“  I  struggled  along,  however,  as  best  I 
might,  but  last  week  I  received  a  letter  from 
my  mother  saying  that  she  was  sick.  Of 
course  her  expenses  were  increased,  and  she 
wrote  to  know  if  I  could  send  her  a  little  ex¬ 
tra  money.  I  had  been  living  so  close  up  to 
my  income  that  I  absolutely  had  less  than  a 
dollar  in  my  pocket.  Unfortunately,  tempta¬ 
tion  came  at  a  time  when  I  was  least  prepared 
to  resist  it.  One  of  our  customers  from  the 
country  came  in  when  I  was  alone,  and  paid 
me  fifty  dollars  in  bills,  for  which  I  gave  him 
a  receipt.  No  one  saw  the  payment  made.  It 
flashed  upon  me  that  this  sum  would  make  my 


AMBROSE  KEAN’S  IMPRUDENCE. 


167 


mother  comfortable  even  if  her  sickness  lasted 
a  considerable  time.  Without  taking  time  to 
think,  I  went  to  an  express  office  and  for¬ 
warded  to  her  a  package  containing  the  bills. 
It  started  yesterday,  and  by  this  time  is  in  my 
mother’s  hands.  You  see  the  situation  I  am 
placed  in.  The  one  who  paid  the  money  may 
come  to  the  office  any  time,  and  reveal  my 
guilt.” 

“  I  don’t  wonder  that  you  were  dispirited,” 
returned  Luke.  “But  can  nothing  be 
done  \  Can  you  not  replace  the  money  in 
time  \  ” 

“  How  can  I  ?  I  have  told  you  how  small 
my  salary  is.” 

4  ‘  Have  you  no  friend  or  friends  from  whom 
you  could  borrow  the  money  ?  ” 

“  I  know  of  none.  I  have  few  friends,  and 
such  as  there  are  are,  like  myself,  dependent 
on  small  pay.  I  must  tell  you,  by  the  way,  how 
we  became  so  poor.  My  mother  had  a  few 
thousand  dollars,  which,  added  to  my  earn¬ 
ings,  would  have  made  us  comparatively  inde¬ 
pendent,  but  in  an  evil  hour  she  invested  them 
in  a  California  mine,  on  the  strength  of  the  in- 


168 


LUKE  WALTON. 


dorsement  of  a  well-known  financier  of  Mil- 
wankee,  Mr.  Tliomas  Browning — ” 

“  Who  ?  ”  asked  Luke,  in  surprise. 

“  Thomas  Browning.  Bo  you  know  him  ?  ” 

“  I  have  seen  him.  He  sometimes  comes  to 
Chicago,  and  stops  at  the  Sherman  House.” 

“  He  recommended  the  stock  so  highly — in 
fact,  he  was  the  president  of  the  company  that 
put  it  on  the  market — that  my  poor  mother 
thought  it  all  right,  and  invested  all  she  had. 
The  stock  was  two  dollars  a  share.  How  it 
would  not  fetch  two  cents.  This  it  was  that 
reduced  us  to  poverty.” 

“  Bo  you  think  Mr.  Browning  was  honest  in 
his  recommendation  of  the  mine?”  asked 
Luke,  thoughtfully. 

“  I  don’t  know.  He  claimed  to  be  the  prim 
cipal  loser  himself.  But  it  is  rather  remark¬ 
able  that  he  is  living  like  a  rich  man  now. 
Hundreds  lost  their  money  through  this  mine. 
As  Mr.  Browning  had  himself  been  in  Cali¬ 
fornia — ’  ’ 

“What  is  that?”  asked  Luke,  in  excite¬ 
ment.  “You  say  this  Browning  was  once  in 
California.  Can  you  tell  when  ?  ” 


AMBROSE  KEAN’S  IMPRUDENCE.  169 

« 

“Haifa  dozen  years  ago,  more  or  less.” 

“And  lie  looks  like  the  man  to  whom  my 
poor  father  confided  ten  thousand  dollars  for 
us,”  thought  Luke.  “It  is  very  strange. 
Everything  tallies  but  the  name.  The  wretch 
who  swindled  us  was  named  Butler.” 

“  Why  do  you  ask  when  Mr.  Browning  was 
in  California  %  ”  said  the  young  man. 

“Because  my  father  died  in  California,” 
answered  Luke  evasively,  4  4  and  I  thought  it 
possible  that  Mr.  Browning  might  have  met 
him.” 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 

«  BROWNING  is  a  man  of  very 

AV  L  peculiar  appearance,”  said  Kean. 

“  You  refer  to  tlie  wart  on  the  upper  part  of 
his  right  cheek  ?  ” 

u  Yes,  it  gives  him  a  repulsive  look.” 

“  And  yet  he  is  popular  in  Milwaukee  \  ” 

“  Yes,  among  those  who  were  not  swindled 
by  his  mining  scheme.  He  lias  the  reputation 
of  a  philanthropist,  but  I  think  it  is  more  on 
account  of  what  he  says  than  what  he  does. 
He  has  done  more  harm  than  he  can  ever 
repair.  For  instance,”  added  the  young  man 
bitterly,  ‘  ‘  this  crime  which  I  have  com¬ 
mitted — I  will  call  it  by  its  right  name — I 
was  impelled  to  by  my  mothers  poverty, 
brought  on  by  him.” 

“How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  not  at 
the  office  to-day  ?  ” 

‘  ‘  I  felt  sick — sick  at  heart,  rather  than  sick 

170 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


171 


in  body — and  I  sent  word  to  my  employer  that 
I  could  not  be  there.  I  dread  entering  the 
office,  for  at  any  time  exposure  might 
come.” 

“If  you  could  only  raise  the  fifty  dollars, 
you  could  replace  the  money  before  it  was 
inquired  for.” 

Ambrose  Kean  shook  his  head. 

“I  can’t  possibly  raise  it,”  he  said,  de¬ 
spondently. 

“I  would  let  you  have  it  if  I  possessed  as 
much  money,  but,  as  you  may  suppose,  I  am 
poor.” 

“I  am  no  less  grateful  to  you,  Luke.  You 
have  a  good  heart,  I  am  sure.  You  don’t 
despise  me  ?  ” 

“No,  why  should  I ? ” 

“  I  have  been  guilty  of  a  crime.” 

“But  you  are  sorry  for  it.  Is  there  posi¬ 
tively  no  one  with  whom  you  are  acquainted, 
who  is  rich  enough  to  help  you  ?  ’  ’ 

“  There  is  one  lady  in  Chicago — a  rich  lady — 
who  was  a  schoolmate  of  my  mother.  She  was 
older  and  in  better  circumstances,  but  they 
were  good  friends.” 


172 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  Who  is  this  lady?  ” 

«/ 

44  A  Mrs.  Merton.” 

44  Mrs.  Merton  !  ”  exclaimed  Luke,  in  excite¬ 
ment.  44  Of  Prairie  Avenue?” 

44  Yes  ;  I  believe  she  lives  there.” 

44  Why,  I  know  her — I  am  in  her  employ,” 
said  Luke. 

Ambrose  Kean  stared  at  Luke  in  undisguised 
amazement. 

44  Is  this  true  ?  ”  he  asked. 

44  Yes.” 

4 4 Is  she  a  kind  lady?  Do  you  think  she 
would  help  me  in  this  trouble  of  mine  ?  ” 

4 4  She  is  very  kind-hearted,  as  I  know  from 
my  own  experience.  I  will  go  to  her  at  once, 
and  see  what  I  can  do.” 

Ambrose  Kean  grasped  Luke’s  hand  with 
fervor. 

44  You  are  a  friend  sent  from  Heaven,  I  truly 
believe,”  he  said.  44  You  have  given  me  a 
hope  of  retrieving  myself.” 

44 1  will  leave  you  for  a  time,”  said  Luke. 
44  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.” 

4  4 1  shall  be  full  of  anxiety  till  I  see  you 
again.” 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


173 


“  Be  hopeful.  I  think  I  shall  bring  you 
good  news.” 

When  Luke  reached  the  house  on  Pacific 
Avenue  he  was  about  to  ring  the  bell  when 
Harold  Tracy  opened  the  door. 

“  You  here  again!”  he  said  in  a  tone  of 
displeasure.  “ Weren’t  you  here  this  morn¬ 
ing  ?  ” 

“  Yes.” 

“Did  Aunt  Eliza  ask  you  to  come  this  after¬ 
noon  \  ” 

“NoP 

“Then  what  brings  you  ?  ” 

“Business,”  answered  Luke  curtly,  and  he 
quietly  entered  the  hall,  and  said  to  a  servant 
who  was  passing  through  :  “  Will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  ask  Mrs.  Merton  if  she  will  see  me  V’ 

“  Well,  you’re  cheeky  !”  ejaculated  Harold, 
who  had  intended  to  keep  him  out. 

“As  long  as  Mrs.  Merton  doesn’t  think  so, 
I  shall  not  trouble  myself,”  said  Luke  coldly. 

“  Sooner  or  later  Aunt  Eliza  will  see  you  in 
your  true  colors,”  said  Harold,  provoked. 

“I  think  she  does  now.” 

At  this  moment  the  servant  returned. 


174 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Yon  are  to  go  upstairs,”  slie  said.  44  Mrs. 
Merton  will  see  you.” 

The  old  lady  was  sitting  back  in  an  easy- 
chair  when  Luke  entered.  She  smiled  pleas¬ 
antly. 

“  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,”  she  said — 
44  this  afternoon  call.” 

“  I  will  tell  you  at  once  what  brought  me, 
Mrs.  Merton.” 

“It  isn’t  sickness  at  home,  I  hope  %  ” 

“No,  I  came  on  the  business  of  a  compara¬ 
tive  stranger.” 

Then  Luke  told  the  story  of  Ambrose  Kean, 
his  sudden  yielding  to  temptation,  his  repent¬ 
ance  and  remorse. 

“  I  am  interested  in  your  friend,”  said  Mrs. 
Merton.  “You  say  he  appropriated  fifty 
dollars  % 5  ’ 

“Yes,  but  it  was  to  help  his  mother.” 

4  4  True,  but  it  is  a  dangerous  step  to  take. 
It  won’t  be  considered  a  valid  excuse.” 

4  4  He  realizes  all  that.  His  employer  is  a 
just  but  strict  man,  and  if  the  theft  is  discov¬ 
ered  Kean  will  be  arrested  and  of  course  con¬ 
victed.” 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


175 


“And  you  think  I  will  help  him  ?  Is  that 
why  you  come  to  me  with  this  story?  ” 

“I  don’t  think  I  would  have  done  so  if  he 
had  not  mentioned  you  as  an  old  friend  and 
schoolmate  of  his  mother’s.” 

“What’s  that?”  added  Mrs.  Merton 
quickly.  4  ‘  His  mother  an  old  schoolmate  of 
mine !  ” 

“That’s  what  he  says.” 

4  4  What  was  her  name — before  marriage  ?  ’  ’ 

44  Marv  Robinson.” 

%/ 

44  You  don’t  say  so  !  ”  Mrs.  Merton  exclaimed 
with  vivacity.  44  Why,  Mary  was  my  favorite 
at  school.  And  this  young  man  is  her  son  ?  ’  ’ 

44  Yes.” 

44 1  would  have  helped  him  without  this,  but 
now  I  won’t  hesitate  a  moment.  Mary’s  boy  ! 
you  must  bring  him  here.  I  want  to  question 
him  about  her.” 

44 1  can  tell  you  something  about  her.  She 
lost  her  money  by  investing  it  in  a  California 
mine — I  think  it  was  the  Excelsior  mine.” 

44  She,  too? ” 

Luke  looked  surprised.  He  did  not  under¬ 
stand  the  meaning  of  this  exclamation. 


176 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“ 1  have  a  thousand  shares  of  that  worthless 
stock  myself,”  continued  the  old  lady.  “  If 
cost  me  two  thousand  dollars,  and  now  it  is 
worth  nothing.” 

‘  ‘  The  one  who  introduced  the  stock  was  Mr. 
Browning,  of  Milwaukee.  ” 

“  I  know.  He  was  an  unscrupulous  knave, 
I  have  no  doubt.  I  could  afford  the  loss,  but 
hundreds  invested,  like  poor  Mary,  who  were 
ruined.  Is  the  man  living,  do  you  know  ?” 

“Yes,  he  is  living  in  Milwaukee.  He  is 
rich,  and  is  prominently  spoken  of  as  a  candi¬ 
date  for  mayor.” 

“If  he  is  ever  a  candidate  I  will  take  care 
that  his  connection  with  this  swindling  trans¬ 
action  is  made  known.  A  man  who  builds  up 
a  fortune  on  the  losses  of  the  poor  is  a  con¬ 
temptible  wretch  in  my  opinion  !  ” 

“And  mine,  too,”  said  Luke.  “It  is  very 
strange  that  he  answers  the  description  of  a 
man  who  cheated  our  family  out  of  ten  thou¬ 
sand  dollars.” 

“  Indeed  !  How  was  that  ?  ” 

Luke  told  the  story,  and  Mrs.  Merton  listened 
with  great  interest. 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


177 


“  So  all  corresponds  except  the  name  ?  ” 

“  Yes.” 

“He  may  have  changed  his  name.” 

‘  ‘  I  have  thought  of  that.  I  mean  to  find  out 
some  time.” 

“  I  won’t  keep  you  any  longer.  Your  friend 
is  no  doubt  in  great  anxiety.  I  have  the  money 
here  in  bills.  I  will  give  them  to  you  for 
him.” 

Mrs.  Merton  was  in  the  act  of  handing  a  roll 
of  bills  to  Luke,  when  the  door  opened  sud¬ 
denly,  and  Mrs.  Tracy  entered. 

She  frowned  in  surprise  and  displeasure  when 
she  saw  her  aunt  giving  money  to  “  that  boy,” 
as  she  contemptuously  called  him. 


12 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


HOW  AMBROSE  KEAN  WAS  SAVED. 

CC  ~y  DIDN’T  know  you  were  occupied,  Aunt 

JL  Eliza,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy,  in  a  significant 
tone,  as  she  paused  at  the  door. 

“  My  business  is  not  private,”  returned  the 
old  lady.  “  Come  in,  Louisa.” 

“That  is  all,  Luke,”  said  his  patron.  u  You 
may  go.  You  can  report  to  me  to-morrow.” 

“  All  right,  ma'am.” 

When  Luke  had  left  the  room  Mrs.  Tracy 
said:  “You  appear  to  repose  a  good  deal  of 
confidence  in  that  boy.” 

“Yes:  I  think  he  deserves  it.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  coughed. 

“You  seem  to  trust  him  with  a  good  deal  of 
money  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

“Of  course  I  don’t  want  to  interfere,  but  I 
think  you  will  need  to  be  on  your  guard.  He 

178 


HOW  AMBROSE  KEAN  1VAS  SAVED.  179 


is  evidently  bent  upon  getting  all  lie  can  out  of 
you.” 

‘‘That  is  your  judgment,  is  it,  Louisa?” 

“  Yes,  Aunt  Eliza,  since  you  ask  me.” 

“He  lias  done  me  a  service  this  morning. 
He  has  brought  to  my  notice  a  son  of  one  of 
my  old  schoolmates  who  is  in  a  strait,  and  I 
have  sent  him  fifty  dollars.” 

“  By  that  boy  ?  ” 

“Yes.  Why  not?” 

“Are  you  sure  the  person  to  whom  you  sent 
the  money  will  ever  get  it  ?  ” 

“  Please  speak  out  what  you  mean.  Don’t 
hint.  I  hate  hints.” 

“In  plain  terms,  then,  I  think  the  boy  will 
keep  the  money  himself,  or  at  any  rate  a  part 
of  it.” 

“  I  don’t  fear  it.” 

“No  fool  like  an  old  fool !  ”  thought  Mrs. 
Tracy,  but  she  was  too  prudent  to  say  it.  She 
only  coughed. 

“You  appear  to  have  a  bad  cough,  Eliza. 
Let  me  recommend  you  to  take  some  of  my 
cough  medicine,”  said  the  old  lady,  with  an 
amused  look. 


180 


LUKE  WALTON. 


1 

“  Thank  you,  Aunt  Eliza.  I  don't  need  it.” 
“  Have  you  any  more  to  say  ?  ” 

“Nothing,  except  to  warn  you  against  that 
designing  boy.” 

“  You  are  very  kind,  Louisa,  but  I  am  not 
quite  a  simpleton.  I  have  seen  something  of 
the  world,  and  I  don’t  think  I  am  easily  taken 

in.  Nov/  I  propose  to  lie  down  for  an  hour. 

*  , 

Afterwards  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  if  you 
wish  an  interview.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  left  the  room,  not  very  wrell  satis¬ 
fied.  She  really  thought  Luke  had  designs 
upon  the  old  lady’s  money,  and  was  averse 
even  to  his  receiving  a  legacy,  since  it  would 
take  so  much  from  Harold  and  herself. 

“Harold,  when  I  entered  your  aunt’s  room, 
what  do  you  think  I  saw  ?  ” 

This  she  said  to  Harold,  who  was  waiting 
below. 

t 

“  I  don’t  know.” 

“  Aunt  Eliza  was  giving  money  to  that  boy.” 
“  Ho  you  know  how  much  ?  ” 

“Fifty  dollars.” 

“  Whew !  Was  it  for  himself  ?  ” 

“He  came  to  her  with  a  trumped-up  story 


HOW  AMBROSE  KEAN  WAS  SAVED.  181 


of  an  old  schoolmate  of  aunt’s  who  was  in  need 
of  money.” 

“  Do  you  think  he  will  keep  it  himself  ?  ” 

“  I  am  afraid  so,” 

“  What  a  cheeky  young  rascal  he  is,  to  be 
sure  !  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right.” 

“Yes  ;  there  is  too  much  reason  to  think  he 
is  an  unscrupulous  adventurer,  young  as 
he  is.” 

“  Why  don’t  you  tell  aunt  so  ?  ” 

“I  have.” 

“And  what  does  she  say?” 

“  It  doesn’t  make  the  least  impression  upon 
her.” 

“  What  do  you  think  the  boy  will  do  ?  ” 

“  Get  her  to  make  a  will  in  his  favor,  or  at 
least  to  leave  him  a  large  legacy.’  ’ 

Harold  turned  pale. 

“That  would  be  robbing  us,”  he  said. 

“Of  course  it  would.  He  wouldn’t  mind 
that,  you  know.” 

“  He  was  very  impertinent  to  me  this  morn¬ 
ing.” 

“I  presume  so.  He  depends  upon  his  favor 
with  aunt.” 


182 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“ Isn’t  there  anything  we  can  do,  mother? ” 

“  I  must  consider.” 

Meanwhile  Luke  returned  at  once  to  the 
room  of  Ambrose  Kean.  He  found  the  young 
man  awaiting  him  with  great  anxiety. 

“  What  success  \  ”  he  asked  quickly. 

“I  have  got  the  fifty  dollars,”  answered 
Luke. 

“ Thank  God!  I  am  saved!”  ejaculated 
the  young  man. 

“  Would  you  mind  taking  it  round  to  the 
office  with  a  note  from  me  ?  ”  asked  Kean. 

“  I  will  do  so  cheerfully.” 

“  Then  I  shall  feel  at  ease.” 

“  Mrs.  Merton  would  like  to  have  you  call  on 
her.  She  remembered  your  mother  at  once.” 

“I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so,  but  shall  be 
ashamed  to  meet  her  now  that  she  knows  of 
my  yielding  to  temptation.” 

“You  need  not  mind  that.  She  also  suf¬ 
fered  from  the  rascality  of  Thomas  Browning, 
and  she  will  make  allowance  for  you.” 

“  Then  I  will  go  some  day  with  you.” 

“  You  had  better  give  me  a  letter  to  take  to 
your  employer  with  the  money.” 


HOW  AMBROSE  KEA N  WAS  SAVED. 


183 


“I  will.” 

Ambrose  Kean  wrote  the  following  note  : 
James  Cooper  : 

Dear  Sir:  Hiram  Crossley  called  at  the 
office  yesterday  and  paid  in  fifty  dollars  due 
to  you.  Being  busy,  I  thrust  it  into  my 
pocket,  and  inadvertently  took  it  with  me.  I 
think  I  shall  be  able  to  be  at  the  office  to¬ 
morrow,  but  think  it  best  to  send  the  money 
by  a  young  friend.  I  gave  Mr.  Crossley  a 
receipt. 

Yours  respectfully, 

Ambrose  Kean. 

When  Luke  reached  the  office,  Mr.  Cooper 
was  conversing  with  a  stout,  broad-shouldered 
man,  of  middle  age,  and  Luke  could  not  help 
hearing  some  of  their  conversation. 

“You  say  you  paid  fifty  dollars  to  my  clerk, 
Mr.  Crossley  %  ”  said  the  merchant. 

“  Yes.” 

“Have  you  his  receipt ? ” 

“  Here  it  is.” 

Mr.  Cooper  examined  it. 

“Yes,  that  is  his  signature.” 

“  Isn’t  he  here  to-day  ?  ” 

“  No  ;  he  sent  word  that  he  had  a  head¬ 
ache.” 


184 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  And  yon  don’t  find  the  money  ?  ” 

<4No.” 

44  That  is  singular.”  And  the  two  men  ex¬ 
changed  glances  of  suspicion. 

44  What  sort  of  a  young  man  is  he  %  ” 

44  I  never  had  any  cause  to  suspect  him.” 

4  4 1  hope  it  is  all  right.  ’  ’ 

4 4 If  it  isn’t,  I  will  discharge  him,”  said 
Cooper,  nodding  emphatically. 

44  He  probably  didn’t  think  I  would  be  here 
so  soon.  I  didn’t  expect  to  be,  but  a  telegram 
summoned  me  to  the  city  on  other  busi¬ 
ness.” 

Of  course  Luke  understood  that  the  conver¬ 
sation  related  to  Kean,  and  that  he  had  ar¬ 
rived  none  too  soon. 

He  came  forward. 

44 1  have  a  letter  for  you  from  Mr.  Kean,”  he 
said. 

44  Ha  !  Give  it  to  me  !  ” 

Mr.  Cooper  tore  open  the  envelope,  saw  the 
bank  bills,  and  read  the  letter. 

44  It’s  all  right,  Mr.  Crossley,”  he  said,  his 
brow  clearing.  44  Head  that  letter.” 

44 1  am  really  glad,”  said  Crossley. 


HOW  AMBROSE  KEAN  WAS  SAVED.  185 

u  How  is  Mr.  Kean?”  asked  Cooj)er,  in  a 
friendly  tone. 

“  He  had  a  severe  headache,  but  he  is  better, 
and  hopes  to  be  at  the  office  to-morrow.” 

“  Tell  him  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him,  but 
don’t  want  him  to  come  unless  he  is  really 
able.” 

“  Thank  you,  sir.  I  will  do  so.”  And 
Luke  left  the  office. 

“It  was  a  narrow  escape,”  he  said  to  him¬ 
self.  “Whenever  I  am  tempted  to  be  dis¬ 
honest  I  will  remember  it.” 

He  went  back  to  Ambrose  Kean,  and  told 
him  what  had  happened  at  the  office. 

“  I  have  escaped  better  than  I  deserved,”  he 
said.  “  It  will  be  a  lesson  to  me.  Please 
tell  Mrs.  Merton  that  her  timely  aid  has  saved 
my  reputation,  and  rescued  my  poor  mother 
from  sorrow  and  destitution.” 

“  I  will,  and  I  am  sure  she  will  consider  the 
money  well  spent.” 

The  next  morning,  as  Luke  stood  at  his 
usual  post,  he  saw  Thomas  Browning,  of  Mil¬ 
waukee,  come  out  of  the  Sherman  House.  He 
knew  him  at  once  by  the  wart  on  the  upper 


186 


LUKE  WALTON. 


part  of  his  right  cheek,  which  gave  him  a  re¬ 
markable  appearance. 

“Can  there  be  two  persons  answering  this 
description  ?  ”  Luke  asked  himself. 

Thomas  Browning  came  across  the  street,  and 
paused  in  front  of  Luke. 


i 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


STEPHEN  WEBB  IS  PUZZLED. 

((  TTT ILL  you  have  a  morning  paper?” 

V  V  asked  Luke. 

He  wanted  to  have  a  few  words  with  Mr. 
Browning,  even  upon  an  indifferent  subject,  as 
he  now  thought  it  probable  that  this  was  the 
man  who  had  defrauded  his  mother  and 
himself. 

Browning,  too,  on  his  part  wished  for  an 
opportunity  to  speak  with  the  son  of  the  man 
he  had  so  shamefully  swindled.  Though  he 
had  no  reason  to  think  that  Luke  or  his 
mother  had  any  knowledge  of  the  trust,  he 
felt  a  vague  sense  of  uneasiness  lest  it  should 
some  day  come  out,  and  he  be  forced  to  dis¬ 
gorge  the  money  with  accumulated  interest. 

“Yes,”  he  said  abruptly,  “you  may  give 
me  the  Times” 

When  the  paper  had  been  paid  for,  he  said  : 

187 


188 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Do  you  make  a  good  living  at  selling 
papers  ?  ” 

“  It  gives  me  about  seventy-five  cents  a  day,” 
answered  Luke. 

“You  can  live  on  that,  I  suppose  ?  ” 

“I  have  a  mother  to  support.” 

“That  makes  a  difference.  Why  do  you 
stay  in  Chicago  ?  You  could  make  a  better 
living  further  West.” 

“In  California?”  asked  Luke,  looking  in¬ 
tently  at  Browning. 

Thomas  Browning  started. 

“  What  put  California  into  your  head?”  he 
asked. 

“  Mv  father  died  in  California.” 

•s 

“  A  good  reason  for  your  not  going  there  !  ” 

“I  thought  you  might  be  able  to  tell  me 
something  about  California,”  continued  Luke. 

“Why  should  I?” 

“  I  thought  perhaps  you  had  been  there.” 

“You  are  right,”  said  Browning  after  a 
pause.  “I  made  a  brief  trip  to  San  Francisco 
at  one  time.  It  was  on  a  slight  matter  of  busi¬ 
ness.  But  I  don’t  know  much  about  the 
interior,  and  can’t  give  you  advice.” 


STEPHEN  WEBB  IS  PUZZLED. 


189 


“  I  wonder  if  this  is  true,”  thought  Luke. 
“He  admits  having  been  to  California,  but 
says  he  has  never  been  in  the  interior.  If 
that  is  the  case,  he  can’t  have  met  my 
father.” 

“  I  may  at  some  time  have  it  in  my  power  to 
find  you  a  place  farther  West,  but  not  in  Cali¬ 
fornia,”  resumed  Browning.  “I  will  take  it 
into  consideration.  I  frequently  come  to 
Chicago,  and  I  presume  you  are  to  be  found 
here.” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

Thomas  Browning  waved  his  hand  by  way 
of  good-by,  and  continued  on  his  way. 

“  The  boy  seems  sharp,”  he  said  to  himself. 
“  If  he  had  the  slightest  hint  of  my  connection 
with  his  father’s  money,  he  looks  as  if  he 
would  follow  it  up.  Luckily  there  is  no  wit¬ 
ness  and  no  evidence.  Xo  one  can  prove  that 
I  received  the  money.” 

At  the  corner  of  Adams  Street  Mr.  Brown¬ 
ing  encountered  his  nephew,  Stephen  Webb, 
who  was  gazing  in  at  a  window  with  a  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  looking  the  very  image  of  inde¬ 
pendent  leisure. 


190 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  You  are  profitably  employed,”  said  Brown¬ 
ing  dryly.  , 

Stephen  Webb  wheeled  round  quickly. 

“  Glad  to  see  you,  Uncle  Thomas,”  he  said 
effusively.  “I  suppose  you  received  my 
letter.” 

“  Yes.” 

“I  hope  you  were  satisfied.  I  had  hard 

work  to  find  out  about  the  bov.” 

«/ 

“Humph  !  I  don’t  see  how  there  could  be 
anything  difficult  about  it.  I  hope  you  didn’t 
mention  my  name.” 

“No.  I  suppose  you  are  interested  in  the 
boy,”  said  Stephen,  with  a  look  of  curious  in¬ 
quiry. 

“  Yes  ;  I  always  feel  interested  in  the  poor, 
and  those  who  require  assistance.” 

Browning’ s  tone  was  that  of  the  professional 
philanthropist. 

‘  ‘  I  am  glad  of  that,  uncle,  for  you  have  a 
poor  nephew.” 

“  And  a  lazy  one,”  said  Browning  sharply. 
“Where  would  I  be  if  I  had  been  as  indolent 
as  you  1  ’  ’ 

‘ ;  I  am  sure  I  am  willing  to  do  whatever  you 


STEPHEN  WEBB  IS  PUZZLED.  l91 

require,  Uncle  Thomas.  Have  you  any  in¬ 
structions?  ” 

44  Well,  not  just  now,  except  to  let  me  know 
all  you  can  learn  about  the  newsboy.  Has  he 
any  other  source  of  income  except  selling 
papers  %  ’  ’ 

44  I  believe  he  does  a  few  odd  jobs  now  and 
then,  but  I  don’t  suppose  he  earns  much  out¬ 
side.” 

44  I  was  talking  with  him  this  morning.  ” 

44  You  were  !  ”  ejaculated  Stephen,  in  a  tone 
of  curiosity.  “Did  you  tell  him  you  felt  an 
interest  in  him  ? 5  ’ 

“No,  and  I  don’t  want  you  to  tell  him  so. 
I  suggested  that  he  could  make  a  better  in¬ 
come  by  leaving  Chicago,  and  going  farther 
West.” 

4 4 1  think  I  might  like  to  do  that,  Uncle 
Stephen.” 

44  Then  why  don’t  you  ?  ” 

“I  can’t  go  without  money.” 

44  You  could  take  up  a  quarter  section  of 
land,  and  start  in  as  a  farmer.  I  could  give 
you  a  lift  that  way  if  I  thought  you  were  in 
earnest.” 


192 


LUKE  Wr  ALTON. 


“I  don’t  think  I  should  succeed  as  a  farmer,  ” 
said  Stephen  with  a  grimace. 

“  Too  hard  work,  eh  \  ” 

“lam  willing  to  work  hard,  but  that  isn’t 
in  my  line.” 

“  Well,  let  that  go.  You  asked  if  I  had  any 
instructions.  Find  opportunities  of  talking 
with  the  boy,  and  speak  in  favor  of  going 
West.” 

‘  ‘  I  will.  Is  there  anything  more  ?  ’  ’ 

“No,  I  believe  not.” 

“  You  couldn’t  let  me  have  a  couple  of  dol¬ 
lars  extra,  could  you,  uncle  \  ” 

“Why  should  I?” 

“  I — I  felt  sick  last  week,  and  had  to  call  in 
a  doctor,  and  then  get  some  medicine.” 

“There’s  one  dollar  !  Don’t  ask  me  for  any 
more  extras.” 

“  He’s  awfully  close-fisted,”  grumbled 
Stephen.  “I  am  glad  he  didn’t  ask  me  the 
doctor’s  name,  or  what  my  sickness  was.  It 
might  have  bothered  me  a  little  to  tell.” 

“  I  am  afraid  King  might  visit  Chicago,  and 
find  out  the  boy,”  said  Browning  to  himself  as 
he  continued  his  walk.  “That  would  never 


STEPHEN  WEBB  IS  PUZZLED. 


193 


do,  for  he  is  a  sharp  fellow,  and  would  put  the 
boy  on  my  track  if  he  saw  any  money  in  it. 
My  best  course  is  to  get  this  Luke  out  of 
Chicago  if  I  can.” 

Stephen  Webb  made  it  in  his  way  to  fall  in 
with  Luke  when  he  was  selling  afternoon 
papers. 

44  This  is  rather  a  slow  way  of  making  a  for¬ 
tune,  isn’t  it,  Luke?”  he  asked. 

4  4  Yes  ;  I  have  no  thoughts  of  making  a  for¬ 
tune  at  the  newspaper  business.” 

4 4 Do  you  always  expect  to  remain  in  it?” 
continued  Webb. 

44  Well,  no,”  answered  Luke  with  a  smile. 
44  If  I  live  to  be  fifty  or  sixty  I  think  I  should 
find  it  rather  tiresome.” 

44  You  are  right  there.” 

4 4  But  I  don’t  see  any  way  of  getting  out  of 
it  just  now.  There  may  be  an  opening  for  me 
by  and  by.” 

44  The  chances  for  a  young  fellow  in  Chicago 
are  not  very  good.  Here  am  I — twenty- 
five  years  old — and  with  no  prospects  to 
speak  of.” 

44  A  good  many  people  seem  to  make  good 


194 


LUKE  WALTON. 


livings,  and  many  even  grow  rich,  in  Chi¬ 
cago.” 

“Yes,  if  you’ve  got  money  you  can  make 
money.  Did  you  ever  think  of  going 
West?” 

Luke  looked  a  little  surprised. 

“  A  gentleman  was  speaking  to  me  on  that 
subject  this  morning,”  he  said. 

“  What  did  he  say  to  you  ?  ”  asked  Stephen 
curiously. 

“  He  recommended  me  to  go  West,  but  did 
not  seem  to  approve  of  California.” 

“Why  not  ?  Had  he  ever  been  there  ?  ” 

“  He  said  he  had  visited  San  Francisco,  but 
had  never  been  in  the  interior.” 

“What  a  whopper  that  was!”  thought 
Stephen  Webb.  “  Why  should  Uncle  Thomas 

sav  that  ?  ” 

•/ 

“What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  he? 
Had  you  ever  seen  him  before?”  he  in¬ 
quired. 

“  He  is  a  peculiar-looking  man — has  a  wart 
on  his  right  cheek.” 

“  Did  he  mention  any  particular  part  of  the 
West  ?  ” 


STEPHEN  WEBB  IS  PUZZLED. 


195 


“  No ;  he  said  he  would  look  out  for  a 
chance  for  me.”  ' 

“  It’s  curious  Uncle  Thomas  feels  such  an 
interest  in  that  boy,”  Webb  said  to  himself, 
meditatively.  “  There’s  some  reason.  I  wish 
I  could  lind  it  out.” 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


MRS.  MERTON  PASSES  A  PLEASANT  EVENING. 


MBROSE  KEAX  called  with  Luke  an 


evening  or  two  later  to  thank  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton  in  person  for  her  kindness.  They  arrived 
ten  minutes  after  Mrs.  Tracy  and  Harold  had 
started  for  Hooley’s  Theater,  and  thus  were 
saved  an  embarrassing  meeting  with  two  per¬ 
sons  who  would  have  treated  them  frigidly. 

They  were  conducted  upstairs  by  the  ser¬ 
vant,  and  were  ushered  into  Mrs.  Merton’s 
sitting-room. 

Ambrose  Kean  was  naturally  ill  at  ease, 
knowing  that  Mrs.  Merton  was  acquainted 
with  the  error  he  had  committed.  But  the  old 
lady  received  him  cordially. 

‘  ‘  I  am  glad  to  meet  the  son  of  my  old 
schoolmate,  Mary  Robinson,”  she  said. 

“  In  spite  of  his  un worthiness  ?  ”  returned 
Ambrose,  his  cheek  flushing  with  shame. 


196 


A  PLEASANT  EVENING. 


197 


44  I  don’t  know  yet  whether  he  is  unworthy. 
That  remains  to  be  seen.” 

“You  know  that  I  yielded  to  temptation, 
and  committed  a  theft.” 

“Yes  ;  but  it  was  to  help  your  mother.” 

“It  was,  but  that  does  not  relieve  me  from 
guilt.” 

“You  are  right ;  still  it  greatly  mitigates  it. 
Take  my  advice  ;  forget  it,  and  never  again 
yield  to  a  similar  temptation.” 

“I  will  not,  indeed,  Mrs.  Merton,”  said  the 
young  man  earnestly.  4  4 1  feel  that  I  have 
been  very  fortunate  in  escaping  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  my  folly,  and  in  enlisting  your 
sympathy.  ’  ’ 

4  4  That  is  well !  Let  us  forget  this  disagree¬ 
able  circumstance,  and  look  forward  to  the 
future.  How  is  Mary — your  mother  ?  ’  ’ 

44  She  is  an  invalid.” 

4  4  And  poor.  There  is  a  remedy  for  poverty. 
Let  us  also  hope  that  there  is  a  remedy  for 
her  ill  health.  But  tell  me,  why  did  you  not 
come  to  see  me  before?  You  have  been  some 
time  in  Chicago.” 

44  True,  but  I  knew  you  were  a  rich  lady.  I 


/ 


198  LUKE  WALTON. 

didn’t  think  yon  would  remember  or  care  to 
hear  from  one  so  poor  and  obscure  as  my 
mother.” 

“Come,  I  consider  that  far  from  a  compli¬ 
ment,”  said  the  old  lady.  “You  really 
thought  as  badly  of  me  as  that  ?  ” 

“I  know  you  better  now,”  said  Ambrose 
gratefully. 

“  It  is  well  you  do.  You  have  no  idea  how 
intimate  your  mother  and  I  used  to  be.  She 
is  five  years  my  junior,  I  think,  so  that  I  re¬ 
garded  her  as  a  younger  sister.  It  is  many 
years  since  we  met.  And  how  is  she  look¬ 
ing?”  \  WM  g|  1  fjl 

“She  shows  the  effects  of  bad  health,  but 
I  don’t  think  she  looks  older  than  her 
years.” 

“We  have  both  changed  greatly,  no  doubt. 
It  is  to  be  expected.  But  you  can  tell  her  that 
I  have  not  forgotten  the  favorite  companion 
of  my  school  days.” 

“  I  will  do  so,  for  I  know  it  will  warm  her 
heart  and  brighten  her  up.” 

“  When  we  were  girls  together  our  worldly 
circumstances  did  not  greatly  differ.  But  I 


A  PLEASANT  EVENING. 


199 


married,  and  my  husband  was  very  successf  ul 
in  business.” 

“While  she  married,  and  lost  all  she 
had.” 

“It  is  often  so.  It  might  have  been  the 
other  way.  Your  mother  might  have  been 
rich,  and  I  poor ;  but  I  don’t  think  she  would 
have  been  spoiled  by  prosperity  any  more 
than  I  have  been.  Now  tell  me  how  you  are- 
situated.” 

“  I  am  a  clerk,  earning  twelve  dollars  a 
week.” 

“And  your  employer — is  he  kind  and  con¬ 
siderate  ?” 

“  He  is  just,  but  he  has  strict  notions.  Had 
he  learned  my  slip  the  other  day  he  would 
have  discharged  me,  perhaps  had  me  arrested. 
Now,  thanks  to  your  prompt  kindness,  he 
knows  and  will  know  nothing  of  it.” 

“  Is  he  likely  to  increase  your  salary?  ” 

“  He  will  probably  raise  me  to  fifteen  dollars 
a  week  next  January.  Then  I  can  get  along 
very  well.  At  present  it  is  difficult  for  me, 
after  sending  my  mother  four  dollars  a  week, 
to  live  on  the  balance  of  my  salary.” 


200  LUKE  WALTON-. 

“  I  should  think  it  would  be.” 

“  Still  I  would  have  made  it  do,  but  for 
mother’ s  falling  sick,  and  so  needing  a  larger 
allowance.” 

“  I  hope  she  is  not  seriously  ill,”  said  Mrs. 
Merton,  with  solicitude. 

“No,  fortunately  not.  I  think  she  will  be 
as  well  as  usual  in  a  few  weeks.” 

“Tell  her  that  I  inquired  particularly  for 
her,  and  that  I  send  her  my  love  and  remem¬ 
brance.  ’  ’ 

“  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  do  so.” 

It  might  not  prove  interesting  to  the  reader 
to  detail  all  the  conversation  that  followed. 
The  old  lady  asked  many  questions,  and  fur¬ 
nished  some  reminiscences  of  her  early  days. 
The  time  slipped  away  so  rapidly  that  Luke 
wTas  surprised  when,  looking  at  the  French 
clock  on  the  mantel,  he  saw  that  it  lacked  but 
a  quarter  to  ten  o’clock. 

“Mr.  Kean,”  he  said,  glancing  at  the  clock, 
“  it  is  getting  late.” 

“So  it  is,”  said  Ambrose,  rising.  “I  am 
afraid  we  have  been  trespassing  upon  your 
kindness,  Mrs.  Merton.” 


l 


A  PLEASANT  EVENING. 


201 


“ Not  at  all!”  said  Mrs.  Merton  promptly. 
“I  have  enjoyed  the  evening,  I  can  assure  you. 
Mr.  Kean,  you  must  call  again.” 

“  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so  if  you  will  per¬ 
mit  me.” 

“I  wish  you  to  do  so.  Luke  will  come  with 
you.  I  shall  want  to  hear  more  of  your 
mother,  and  how  she  gets  along.” 

As  they  were  leaving,  Mrs.  Merton  slipped 
into  the  hand  of  Ambrose  Kean  an  en¬ 
velope. 

“  The  contents  are  for  your  mother,”  she 
said.  u  I  have  made  the  check  payable  to 
you.” 

“Thank  you.  It  is  another  mark  of  your 
kindness.” 

When  Ambrose  Kean  examined  the  check, 
he  ascertained  to  his  joy  that  it  was  for  a  hun¬ 
dred  dollars. 

“  What  a  splendid  old  lady  she  is,  Luke  !  ” 
he  said,  enthusiastically. 

“  She  is  always  kind,  Mr.  Kean.  I  have 
much  to  be  grateful  to  her  for.  I  wish  I 
could  say  the  same  of  other  members  of  the 
family.” 


202 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  What  other  members  of  the  family  are 
there  ?  ” 

“A  niece,  Mrs.  Tracy,  and  her  son,  Har¬ 
old.1 ” 

“  Why  didn’t  we  see  them  to-night  ?  ” 

“I  don’t  know;  I  supjmse  they  were 
out.” 

The  next  day  Ambrose  handed  the  check  to 
his  employer,  and  asked  if  he  would  endorse 
it,  and  so  enable  him  to  draw  the  money. 

James  Cooper  took  the  check  and  examined 
the  signature. 

“Eliza  Merton,”  said  he.  “Is  it  the  rich 
Mrs.  Merton  who  lives  on  Prairie  Avenue  ?” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Indeed,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  ac¬ 
quainted  with  her.” 

“  She  and  my  mother  were  schoolmates.” 

‘  ‘  And  do  you  keep  up  the  acquaint¬ 
ance?” 

“I  spent  last  evening  at  her  house.  This 
check  is  a  gift  from  her  to  my  mother.” 

Ambrose  Kean  rose  greatly  in  the  estimation 
of  his  employer  when  the  latter  learned  that 
Kean  had  such  an  aristocratic  friend,  and  he 


A  PLEASANT  EVENING. 


203 


was  treated  with  more  respect  and  considera¬ 
tion  than  before.  It  need  not  excite  surprise, 
for  it  is  the  way  of  the  world. 

Meanwhile,  Harold  and  his  mother  had  en¬ 
joyed  themselves  at  the  theater. 

“  I  suppose  Aunt  Eliza  went  to  bed  early, 
Harold,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy,  as  they  were  on  their 
way  home. 

“  Went  to  roost  with  the  hens,”  suggested 
Harold,  laughing  at  what  he  thought  to  be  a 
good  joke. 

“  Probably  it  as  well  for  her,”  said  his 
mother.  “  It  isn’t  good  for  old  people  to  sit 
up  late.” 

It  was  about  half-past  eleven  when  they  were 
admitted  by  the  drowsy  servant. 

“I  suppose  Mrs.  Merton  went  to  bed  long 
ago,  Laura,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy. 

“  No,  ma’am,  she  set  up  later  than  usual.” 

“That  is  odd.  I  thought  she  would  feel 
lonely.” 

“Oh,  she  had  company,  ma’am.” 

“  Company  !  Who  ?  ” 

“  Master  Luke  was  here  all  the  evenin’,  and 
a  young  man  with  him.” 


204 


LUKE  WALTON. 

/ 

Mrs.  Tracy  frowned  ominously. 
u  The  sly  young  artful !  ”  she  said  to  Harold 
when  they  were  alone.  “He  is  trying  all  he 
can  to  get  on  aunt’s  weak  side.  Something 
will  have  to  be  done,  or  we  shall  be  left  out  in 
the  cold.” 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

i 

MRS.  TRACY’S  BROTHER. 

A  DAY  or  two  later,  while  Mrs.  Merton  was 
in  the  city  shopping,  accomx>anied  by 
Luke,  a  man  of  thirty  years  of  age  ascended 
the  steps  of  the  house  on  Prairie  Avenue  and 
rang  the  bell. 

4 £  Is  Mrs.  Tracy  at  home  ?  ”  he  asked  of  the 
servant  who  answered  the  bell. 

“Yes,  sir  ;  what  name  shall  I  give  ?  ” 

44  Never  mind  about  the  name.  Say  it  is  an 
old  friend.” 

4  4  Won’  t  you  come  in,  sir  ?  ” 

44  Yes,  I  believe  I  will.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  received  the  message  with  sur¬ 
prise  mingled  with  curiosity. 

44  Who  can  it  be  \  ”  she  asked  herself. 

She  came  downstairs  without  delay. 

The  stranger,  who  had  taken  a  seat  in  the 

hall,  rose  and  faced  her. 

205 


206 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Don’t  you  know  me,  Louisa ?  ”  he  asked. 

“  Is  it  you,  Warner?”  she  exclaimed,  sur¬ 
prised  and  startled. 

“  Yes,”  he  answered,  laughing.  “  It’ s  a  good 
while  since  we  met.” 

“  Five  years.  And  have  you — ” 

“  What — reformed  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,  I  can’t  say  as  to  that.  I  can  only 
tell  you  that  I  am  not  wanted  by  the  police  at 
present.  Is  the  old  lady  still  alive  ?  ’  ’ 

u  Aunt  Eliza  ?  ” 

“  Of  course.” 

“  Yes,  she  is  alive  and  well.” 

“I  thought  perhaps  she  might  have  died, 
and  left  you  in  possession  of  her  property.” 

“Not  yet.  I  don’t  think  she  has  any  inten¬ 
tion  of  dying  for  a  considerable  number  of 
years.” 

“  That  is  awkward.  Has  she  done  anything 
for  you  ?  ” 

“We  have  a  free  home  here,  and  she  makes 
me  a  moderate  allowance,  but  she  is  not  dis¬ 
posed  to  part  with  much  of  her  money  while 
she  lives.” 


MRS.  tracy’s  brother.  207 

“  I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  thought  you  might 
be  able  to  help  me  to  some  money.  I  am  terri¬ 
bly  hard  up.” 

“You  always  were,  no  matter  how  much 
money  you  had.” 

“I  never  had  much.  The  next  thing  is,  how 
does  the  old  lady  feel  toward  me  ?  ’  ’ 

“I  don’ t  think  she  feels  friendly,  though  noth¬ 
ing  has  passed  between  us  respecting  you  for  a 
long  time.  She  has  very  strict  notions  about 
honesty,  and  when  you  embezzled  your  employ¬ 
er’ s  money  you  got  into  her  black  books.” 

“That  was  a  youthful  indiscretion,”  said 
Warner,  smiling.  “  Can’t  you  convince  her  of 
that?” 

“  I  doubt  if  I  can  lead  her  to  think  of  it  in 
that  light.” 

“I  know  what  that  means,  Louisa.  You 
want  to  get  the  whole  of  the  old  lady’s  prop¬ 
erty  for  yourself  and  that  boy  of  yours.  You 

/ 

always  were  selfish.” 

“No,  Warner,  though  I  think  I  am  entitled 
to  the  larger  part  of  aunt’s  money,  I  don’t  care 
to  have  you  left  out  in  the  cold.  I  will  do  what 
I  can  to  reconcile  her  to  you.” 


208 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Come,  that’s  fair  and  square.  You’re  a 
trump,  Louisa.  You  have  not  forgotten  that  I 
am  your  brother.” 

ulo,  I  am  not  so  selfish  as  you  think.  If  I 
don’t  succeed  in  restoring  you  to  Aunt  Eliza’s 
good  graces,  and  she  chooses  to  leave  me  all 
her  property,  I  promise  to  take  care  of  you 
and  allow  you  a  fair  income.” 

4  4  That’ s  all  right,  but  I  should  rather  the  old 
lady  would  provide  for  me  herself.” 

44  Do  you  doubt  my  word  ?  ” 

4  4  No,  but  your  idea  of  what  wTould„be  a  fair 
income  might  differ  from  mine.  How  much  do 
you  think  the  old  lady  is  worth  3  ” 

4 4  Quarter  of  a  million,  I  should  think,”  re¬ 
plied  Mrs.  Tracy  guardedly. 

44  Yes,  and  considerably  more,  too.” 

4'  Perhaps  so.  I  have  no  means  of  judging.” 

44  Supposing  it  to  be  the  figure  you  name, 
how  much  would  you  be  willing  to  give  me,  if 
she  leaves  me  out  in  the  cold  ?  ” 

44 1  am  not  prepared  to  say,  Warner.  I 
would  see  that  you  had  no  good  reason  to 
complain.  ’  ’ 

44 1  should  prefer  to  have  you  name  a 


209 


MRS.  TRACY’S  BROTHER. 

figure,  so  that  I  might  know  what  to  depend 
upon.” 

But  this  Mrs.  Tracy  declined  to  do,  though 
her  brother  continued  to  urge  her. 

“  Where  have  you  been  for  a  few  years  past, 
Warner?”  she  asked. 

“  Floating  about.  At  first  I  didn’t  dare  to 
come  back.  It  was  a  year  at  least  before  I 
heard  that  aunt  had  paid  up  the  sum  I  got 
away  with.  When  I  did  hear  it  I  was  in 
Australia.” 

“  What  did  you  do  there  ?  ” 

“  I  was  a  bookkeejjer  in  Melbourne  for  a 
time.  Then  I  went  into  the  country.  From 
Australia  I  came  to  California,  and  went  to 
the  mines.  In  fact,  I  have  only  just  come  from 
there.” 

“Didn’t  you  manage  to  make  money  any¬ 
where  ?  ” 

“Yes,  but  it  didn’t  stick  by  me.  How  much 
money  do  you  think  I  have  about  me  now  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  can’t  guess,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  uneasily. 

“  Five  dollars  and  a  few  cents.  However,  I 
am  sure  you  will  help  me,”  he  continued. 

“  Really  Warner,  you  mustn’t  hope  for  too 
14 


210 


LUKE  WALTON. 


much  from  me.  I  have  but  a  small  allowance 
from  Aunt  Eliza — hardly  enough  to  buy  neces¬ 
sary  articles  for  Harold  and  myself.” 

44  Then  you  can  speak  to  aunt  in  my  behalf.” 

41  Yes,  I  can  do  that.” 

44  Where  is  she  ?  ” 

44  She  has  gone  out  shopping  this  morning.” 

44  Alone,  or  is  Harold  with  her  ?  ” 

44  Neither,”  answered  Mrs.  Tracy,  her  brow 
darkening.  44  She  has  picked  up  a  boy  from 
the  street,  and  installed  him  as  first  favorite.” 

44  That’s  queer,  isn’t  it  ?  ” 

44  Yes ;  but  Aunt  Eliza  was  always  queer.” 

44  What's  the  boy’s  name  ?  ” 

4 4 Luke  Walton.” 

44  What’s ‘his  character?  ” 

44  Sly — artful.  He  is  scheming  to  have  aunt 
leave  him  something  in  her  will.” 

44 If  she  leaves  him  a  few  hundred  dollars  it 
won’t  hurt  us  much.” 

44You  don’t  know  the  boy.  He  won’t  be 
satisfied  with  that.” 

44  You  don’t  mean  to  say  that  his  influence 
over  aunt  is  dangerous  ?  ” 

44  Yes,  Ido.” 


MRS.  TRACY’S  BROTHER. 


211 


“  Can’t  you  get  her  to  bounce  him  %  ” 

“  I  have  done  what  I  could,  but  she  seems  to 
be  infatuated.  If  he  were  a  gentleman’ s  son  I 
shouldn’t  mind  so  much,  but  Harold  saw  him 
the  other  day  selling  papers  near  the  Sherman 
House.” 

“Do  you  think  aunt’s  mind  is  failing?” 

“  She  seems  rational  enough  on  all  other  sub¬ 
jects.  She  was  always  shrewd  and  sharp,  you 
know.” 

“  Well,  that’s  rather  an  interesting  state  of 
things.  I  haven’ t  returned  to  Chicago  any  too 
soon.” 

“  Why  do  you  say  that  \  ” 

“Because  it  will  become  my  duty  to  spoil 
the  chances  of  this  presuming  young  man.” 

“That  is  easier  said  than  done.  You  forget 
that  Aunt  Eliza  thinks  a  good  deal  more  of 
him  than  she  does  of  you.” 

“  I  haven’t  a  doubt  that  you  are  right.” 

“  Then,  what  can  you  do  ?  ” 

“  Convince  her  that  he  is  a  scapegrace.  Get 
him  into  a  scrape,  in  other  words.” 

“But  he  is  too  smart  to  be  dishonest,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean.” 


212  LUKE  WALTON. 

cC  It  is  not  necessary  for  him  to  be  dishonest. 
It  is  only  necessary  for  her  to  think  he  Is  dis¬ 
honest.” 

There  was  some  further  conversation.  As 
Warner  Powell  was  leaving  the  house  after 
promising  to  call  in  the  evening,  he  met  on  the 
steps  Mrs.  Merton,  under  the  escort  of  Luke 
Walton. 

The  old  lady  eyed  him  sharply. 


( 


I 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  PRODIGAL’S  RECEPTION. 

ON’T  you  know  me,  Aunt  Eliza 


asked  Warner  Powell,  casting  down 


liis  eyes  under  the  sharp  glance  of  the  old  lady. 

“  So  it’s  you,  is  it?”  responded  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton,  in  a  tone  which  could  not  be  considered 
cordial.  „ 


“  Yes,  it  is  I.  I  hope  you  are  not  sorry  to 
see  me.” 

u  Humph  !  It  depends  on  whether  you  have 
improved  or  not.” 

Luke  Walton  listened  with  natural  interest 
and  curiosity.  This  did  not  suit  Mrs.  Tracy, 
who  did  not  care  to  have  a  stranger  made  ac¬ 
quainted  with  her  brother’s  peccadilloes. 

“  Warner,”  she  said,  “I  think  Aunt  Eliza 
will  do  you  the  justice  to  listen  to  your  ex¬ 
planation.  I  imagine,  young  man,  Mrs.  Mer- 


213 


214  LUKE  W ALTON". 

ton  will  not  require  your  services  any  longer 
to-day.” 

The  last  words  were  addressed  to  Luke. 

“  Yes,  Luke,  you  can  go,”  said  the  old  lady, 
in  a  very  different  tone. 

Luke  bowed,  and  left  the  house. 

“  Louisa,”  said  Mrs.  Merton,  “  in  five  min¬ 
utes  you  may  bring  your  brother  up  to  my 
room.” 

“  Thank  you,  Aunt.” 

When  they  entered  the  apartment  they 
found  the  old  lady  seated  in  a  rocking-chair 
awaiting  them. 

“So  you  have  reformed,  have  you?”  she 
asked  abruptly. 

“  I  hope  so,  Aunt  Eliza.” 

“I  hope  so,  too.  It  is  full  time.  Where 
have  you  been  ?  ’  ’ 

“To  Australia,  California,  and  elsewhere.” 

“  A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss.” 

“  In  this  case  it  applies,”  said  Warner.  “  I 
have  earned  more  or  less  money,  but  I  have 
none  now.” 

“  How  old  are  you  ?  ” 

“Thirty.” 


THE  PRODIGAL’S  RECEPTION. 


215 


“A  young  man  ought  not  to  be  penni¬ 
less  at  that  age.  If  you  had  remained  in 
your  place  at  Mr.  Afton’s  and  behaved 
yourself,  you  would  be  able  to  tell  a  different 
story.” 

“  I  know  it,  Aunt.” 

44  Don’t  be  too  hard  upon  him,  Aunt  Eliza,” 
put  in  Mrs.  Tracy.  44  He  is  trying  to  do  well 
now.” 

4 4 1  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.” 

44  Would  you  mind  my  inviting  him  to  stay 
here  for  a  time  ?  The  house  is  large,  you 
know.” 

Mrs.  Merton  paused.  She  didn’t  like  the 
arrangement,  but  she  was  a  just  and  merciful 
woman,  and  it  was  possible  that  Warner  had 
reformed,  though  she  was  not  fully  satisfied  on 
that  point. 

44  For  a  time,”  she  answered,  4 4  till  he  can 
find  employment.” 

“Thank  you,  Aunt  Eliza,”  said  the  young 
man,  relieved,  for  he  had  been  uncertain  how 
his  aunt  would  treat  him.  44 1  hope  to  show 
that  your  kindness  is  appreciated.” 

44 1  am  rather  tired  now,”  responded  Mrs. 


216 


LUKE  WALTOjST. 


Merton,  as  an  indication  that  the  interview 
was  over. 

“We’d  better  go  and  let  aunt  rest,”  said 
Warner,  with  alacrity.  He  did  not  feel  alto¬ 
gether  comfortable  in  the  society  of  the  old 
lady. 

When  they  were  alone  Mrs.  Tracy  turned  to 
her  brother  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction. 

44  You  have  reason  to  congratulate  yourself 
on  your  reception,”  she  said. 

44  I  don’t  know  about  that.  The  old  woman 
wasn’t  very  complimentary.” 

44  Be  careful  how  you  speak  of  her.  She 
might  hear  you,  or  the  servant  might,  and 
report.” 

44  Well,  she  is  an  old  woman,  isn’t  she  ?” 

44  It  is  much  better  to  refer  to  her  as  the  old 
lady — better  still  to  speak  of  her  as  Aunt  Eliza.” 

“I  hope  she’ll  make  up  her  mind  to  do 
something  for  me.” 

“She  has;  she  gives  you  a  home  in  this 
house.” 

4  4 1  would  a  good  deal  rather  have  her  pay 
my  board  outside,  where  I  would  feel  more 
independent.” 


THE  PRODIGAL’S  RECEPTION. 


217 


“  I  have  been  thinking,  Warner,  yon  might 
become  her  secretary  and  man  of  business.  In 
that  case  she  could  dispense  with  this  boy, 
whose  presence  bodes  danger  to  us  all.” 

“  I  wouldn’t  mind  being  her  man  of  business, 
to  take  charge  of  her  money,  but  as  to  trotting 
round  town  with  her  like  a  lame  poodle,  please 
excuse  me.” 

“  Warner,”  said  his  sister  rather  sharply, 
“  just  remember,  if  you  please,  that  beggars 
can’t  be  choosers.” 

“  Perhaps  not,  but  this  plan  of  yours  would 
be  foolish.  She  wouldn’t  like  it,  nor  would 
I.  Why  don’t  you  put  Harold  irp  to  offering 
his  services  %  He’ s  as  large  as  this  boy, 
isn’ t  he  ?  ” 

“  He  is  about  the  same  size.” 

Then  it  would  be  a  capital  plan.  You 
would  get  rid  of  the  boy  that  way.  ’  ’ 

“  You  forget  that  Harold  has  not  finished  his 
education.  He  is  now  attending  a  commercial 
school.  I  should  like  to  have  him  go  to  col¬ 
lege,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  care  about  it.” 

“  So,  after  all,  the  boy  seems  to  be  a  neces¬ 
sity.” 


218 


LUKE  WALTON. 


u  I  would  prefer  a  different  boy,  less  artful 
and  designing.” 

“  How  much  does  the  old  woman — beg  par¬ 
don,  the  old  lady — pay  him 

UI  don’t  know.  Harold  asked  Luke,  but 
he  wouldn’t  tell.  I  have  no  doubt  he  man¬ 
ages  to  secure  twice  as  much  as  his  services 
are  worth.  He’s  got  on  Aunt  Eliza’s  blind 
side.” 

“  Just  what  I  would  like  to  do,  but  I  have 
never  been  able  to  discover  that  she  had 
any.” 

Hid  you  take  notice  of  the  boy  ?  ” 

“  Yes  ;  he’s  rather  a  good-looking  youngster, 
it  seems  to  me.” 

“How  can  you  say  so 3”  demanded  Mrs. 
Tracy  sharply.  u  There’s  a  very  common 
look  about  him,  I  think.  He  isn’t  nearly  as 
good-looking  as  Harold.” 

“  Harold  used  to  look  like  you,”  said  War¬ 
ner,  with  a  smile.  “  Naturally  you  should 
think  him  good-looking.  But  don’t  it  show  a 
little  self-conceit,  Louisa  %  ” 

“  That’s  a  poor  joke,”  answered  his  sister 
coldly.  “  What  are  you  going  to  do  %  ” 


THE  PRODIGAL’S  RECEPTION. 


219 


u  Going  out  to  see  if  I  can  find  any  of  my 
old  acquaintances.” 

“  You  would  much  better  look  for  a  posi¬ 
tion,  as  Aunt  Eliza  hinted.” 

“  Don’t  be  in  such  a  hurry,  Louisa.  Please 
bear  in  mind  that  I  have  only  just  arrived  in 
Chicago  after  an  absence  of  five  years.” 

“  Dinner  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour.” 

“  Thank  you.  I  don’t  think  I  should  like  a 
second  interview  with  Aunt  Eliza  quite  so 
soon.  I  will  lunch  outside.” 

“A  lunch  outside  costs  money,  and  you  are 
not  very  well  provided  in  that  way.” 

“  Don’t  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Louisa. 
I  intend  to  be  very  economical.” 

“  My  estimable  sister  is  about  as  mean  as 
any  one  I  know,”  said  Warner  to  himself  as 
he  left  the  house.  “Between  her  and  the  old 
woman,  I  don’ t  think  I  shall  find  it  very  agree¬ 
able  living  here.  A  cheap  boarding-house 
would  be  infinitely  preferable.” 

On  State  Street  Warner  Powell  fell  in  with 
Stephen  Webb,  an  old  acquaintance. 

“Is  it  you,  Warner?  ”  asked  Webb,  in  sur¬ 
prise.  “  It  is  an  age  since  I  saw  you.” 


220 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  So  it  is.  I  haven’t  been  in  Chicago  for  five 
years.” 

44 1  remember.  A  little  trouble,  wasn’t 
there  h  ’  ’ 

44  Yes  ;  but  I’m  all  right  now,  except  that  I 
haven’t  any  money  to  speak  of.” 

44  That’s  my  situation  exactly.” 

u However,  I’ve  got  an  old  aunt  worth  a 
million,  more  or  less,  only  she  doesn’t  fully 
appreciate  her  nephew.  ’  ’ 

4  4  And  I  have  an  uncle,  pretty  well  to  do, 
who  isn’t  so  deeply  impressed  with  my  merits 
as  I  wish  he  were.” 

'4 1  am  staying  with  my  aunt  just  at  present, 
but  hope  to  have  independent  quarters  soon. 
One  trouble  is,  she  takes  a  great  fancy  to  a  boy 
named  Luke  Walton.” 

44 Luke  Walton!”  repeated  Stephen,  in 
amazement. 

44  Do  you  know  him  %  ” 

44  Yes,  my  uncle  has  set  me  to  spy  on  him — 
why,  I  haven’t  been  able  to  find  out.  So  he  is 
in  favor  with  your  aunt  ?  ’  ’ 

44  Yes,  he  calls  at  the  house  every  day,  and 


THE  PRODIGAL’S  RECEPTION.  221 

is  in  her  employ.  Sometimes  she  goes  out 

with  him.” 

“  That’s  strange.  Let  us  drop  into  the 
Saratoga  and  compare  notes.” 

They  turned  into  Dearborn  Street,  and  sat, 
down  to  lunch  in  the  Saratoga,  a  popular  res¬ 
taurant  already  referred  to. 


i 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 

this  boy  is  an  object  of  interest  to 
kly  your  uncle  ?  ”  resumed  Warner  Powell. 
“  Yes.”  .  A  ■ 

“  Does  he  give  any  reason  for  his  interest  ?  ” 
“  Wo,  except  that  he  is  inclined  to  help  him 
when  there  is  an  opportunity.” 

“  Does  the  boy  know  this  ?  ” 

“  No.” 

‘ ‘  Has  he  met  your  uncle  ?  ’  ’ 

“Yes;  Uncle  Thomas  frequently  visits 
Chicago — he  lives  in  Milwaukee — and  stays  at 
the  Sherman  when  he  is  here.  He  has  stopped 
and  bought  a  paper  of  Luke  once  or  twice.” 

“  I  remember  my  sister  told  me  this  boy 
Luke  was  a  newsboy.” 

“How  did  he  get  in  with  your  aunt  \  ” 

“I  don’t  know.  I  presume  it  was  a  chance 
acquaintance.  However  that  may  be,  the 

222 


UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 


223 


young  rascal  seems  to  have  got  on  her  blind 
side,  and  to  be  installed  first  favorite.” 

“  Your  sister  doesn’t  like  it  %  ” 

u  Not  much.  Between  you  and  me,  Louisa — 
Mrs.  Tracy — means  to  inherit  all  the  old  lady’s 
property,  and  doesn’t  like  to  have  any  one  come 
in,  even  for  a  trifle.  She'  11  have  me  left  out  in 
the  cold  if  she  can,  but  I  mean  to  have  some¬ 
thing  to  say  to  that.  In  such  matters  you  can’t 
trust  even  your  own  sister.” 

“  I  agree  with  you,  Warner.” 

The  two  young  men  ate  a  hearty  dinner,  and 
then  adjourned  to  a  billiard  room,  where  they 
spent  the  afternoon  over  the  game.  Warner 
reached  home  in  time  for  supper. 

“  Where  have  you  been,  Warner?”  asked 
Mrs.  Tracy. 

“  Looking  for  work,”  was  the  answer. 

“  What  success  did  you  meet  with  %  ” 

“  Not  much  as  yet.  I  fell  in  with  an  old 
acquaintance  who  may  assist  me  in  that  direc¬ 
tion.” 

“  I  am  glad  you  have  lost  no  time  in  seeking 
employment.  It  will  please  aunt.” 

Warner  Powell  suppressed  a  smile.  He  won- 


224 


LUKE  WALTON. 


dered  what  Mrs.  Merton  would  have  thought 
could  she  have  seen  in  what  manner  he  prose¬ 
cuted  his  search  for  employment. 

“This  is  Harold,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  proudly, 
as  her  son  came  in.  “Harold,  this  is  your 
Uncle  Warner.” 

Harold  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  did  not 
seem  particularly  glad  to  meet  his  new  rela¬ 
tive.  He  scanned  him  critically  from  head  to 
foot,  and  inwardly  pronounced  him  very  ill 
dressed. 

“  So  you  are  Harold,”  said  his  uncle.  “I 
remember  you  in  short  pants.  You  have 
changed  considerably  in  five  years.” 

“Yes,  I  suppose  so,”  answered  Harold  curtly. 
4  4  Where  have  you  been  ?  ’  ’ 

44  In  Australia,  California,  and  so  on.” 

4  4  How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  in  Chi¬ 
cago  ?  ’  ’ 

“That  depends  on  whether  I  can  find  em¬ 
ployment.  If  you  hear  of  a  place  let  me 
know.” 

44 1  don’t  know  of  any  unless  Aunt  Eliza  will 
take  you  in  place  of  that  newsboy,  Luke  Wal¬ 
ton.” 


i 


UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 


225 


44  She  can  have  me  if  she  will  pay  enough 
salary.  How  much  does  Luke  get  ?  ”  * 

4  4  I  don’ t  know.  He  won’  t  tell.  ’  ’ 

u  Do  you  like  him  ?  ” 

44  I  don’t  consider  him  a  lit  associate  for  me. 
He  is  a  common  newsboy.’ ’ 

44  Does  Aunt  Eliza  know  that  ?  ” 

/  u  Yes  :  it  makes  no  difference  to  her.  She’s 
infatuated  with  him.” 

44 1  wish  she  were  infatuated  about  me.  I 
shall  have  to  ask  Luke  his  secret.  Aunt  Eliza 
doesn’t  prefer  him  to  you,  does  she  ?  ” 

4  4 1  have  no  doubt  she  does.  She’ s  very  queer 
about  some  things.” 

44 Harold,”  said  his  mother  solicitously,  44  I 
don’ t  think  you  pay  Aunt  Eliza  enough  atten¬ 
tion.  Old  persons,  you  know,  like  to  receive 
courtesies.” 

44 1  treat  her  politely,  don’ 1 1  ?”  asked  Harold 
aggressively.  44 1  can’t  be  dancing  attendance 
upon  her  and  flattering  her  all  the  time.” 

44  From  what  I  have  seen  of  Luke  Walton,” 
thought  Warner  Powell,  44 1  should  decidedly 
prefer  him  to  this  nephew  of  mine.  He  seems 
conceited  and  disagreeable.  Of  course  it  won’t 
15 


226 


LUKE  WALTON. 


do  to  tell  Louisa  that,  for  she  evidently  admires 
her  graceless  cub,  because  he  is  hers.” 

“  Are  you  intimate  with  this  Luke  ?  ”  asked 
Warner  mischievously. 

“  What  do  you  take  me  for?”  demanded 
Harold,  offended.  “Iam  not  in  the  habit  of 
getting  intimate  with  street  boys.” 

Warner  Powell  laughed. 

u  I  am  not  so  proud  as  you,  Nephew  Harold,” 
he  said.  “Travelers  pick  up  strange  com¬ 
panions.  In  San  Francisco  I  became  intimate 
with  a  Chinaman.” 

“You  don’t  mean  it  ?  ”  exclaimed  Harold,  in 
incredulity  and  disgust. 

“Yes,  I  do.” 

“You  weren’t  in  the  laundry  business  with 

t 

him,  were  you  ?”  went  on  Harold,  with  a  sneer. 

“  I  should  like  to  give  my  nephew  a  good 
shaking,”  thought  Warner.  “  He  knows  how 
to  be  impertinent.” 

“No,”  he  answered  aloud.  “The  laundry 
business  may  be  a  very  good  one — I  should  like 
the  income  it  produces  even  now — but  I  don’t 
think  I  have  the  necessary  talent  for  it.  My 
Chinese  friend  wras  a  commission  merchant 


UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 


227 


worth  at  least  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  I 
wasn’t  above  borrowing  money  from  him  some¬ 
times.” 

“Of  course,  that  makes  a  difference,”  said 
Mrs.  Tracy,  desiring  to  make  peace  between 
her  brother  and  son.  “He  must  have  been  a 
superior  man.  Harold  thought  you  meant  a 
common  Chinaman,  such  as  we  have  in  Chi¬ 
cago.” 

The  reunited  family  sat  down  to  supper  to¬ 
gether.  Warner  Powell  tried  to  make  himself 
agreeable,  and  succeeded  in  thawing  his  aunt’s 
coldness.  He  appeared  to  advantage  compared 
with  Harold,  whose  disposition  was  not  calcu¬ 
lated  to  win  friends  for  himself. 

After  supper  Warner  made  an  excuse  for 
going  out. 

4  4 1  have  an  engagement  with  a  friend  who 
knows  of  a  position  he  thinks  I  may  secure,” 
he  said. 

44 1  hope  you  wont  be  late,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy. 

44  No,  I  presume  not,  but  you  had  better  give 
me  a  pass-key.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  did  so  reluctantly.  She  was 
* 

afraid  Harold  might  want  to  join  his  uncle  ; 


228 


LUKE  WALTON. 


but  the  nephew  was  not  taken  with  his  new 
relative,  and  made  no  such  proposal. 

In  reality,  Warner  Powell  had  made  an  en- 
gagement  to  go  to  McYicker’s  Theater  with  his 
friend  Stephen  Webb,  who  had  arranged  to 
meet  him  at  the  Sherman  House. 

While  waiting,  Warner,  who  had  an  excel¬ 
lent  memory  for  faces,  recognized  Luke,  who 
was  selling  papers  at  his  usual  post.  There 
was  some  startling  news  in  the  evening  papers — 
a  collision  on  Lake  Michigan — and  Luke  had 
ordered  an  unusual  supply,  which  occupied 
him  still  later  than  his  ordinary  hour.  He  had 
taken  a  hasty  supper  at  Brockway  &  Milan’ s, 
foreseeing  that  he  would  not  be  home  till 
late. 

“  Aunt  Eliza’s  boy  !  ”  thought  Warner.  u  I 
may  as  well  take  this  opportunity  to  cultivate 
his  acqiiaintance.” 

He  went  up  to  Luke  and  asked  for  a  paper. 

“  You  don’t  remember  me  1”  he  said  with  a 
smile. 

“No,”  answered  Luke,  looking  puzzled. 

u  I  saw  you  on  Prairie  Avenue  this  morning. 

Mrs.  Merton  is  mv  aunt.” 

*/ 


UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 


229 


“  I  remember  you  now.  Are  you  Mrs. 
Tracy ’  s  brother  ?  ” 

“  Yes,  and  the  uncle  of  Harold.  How  do 
you  and  Harold  get  along  ? 5  ’ 

“Not  at  all.  He  takes  little  notice  of  me.” 

“  He  is  a  snob.  Being  his  uncle,  I  take  the 
liberty  to  say  it.” 

Luke  smiled. 

“ ^Fhere  is  no  love  lost  between  us,”  he  said. 
“I  would  like  to  be  more  friendly,  but  he 
treats  me  like  an  enemy.” 

“  He  is  jealous  of  your  favor  with  my  aunt.” 

“  There  is  no  occasion  for  it.  He  is  a  rela¬ 
tive,  and  I  am  only  in  her  employ.” 

“  She  thinks  a  good  deal  of  you,  doesn’t  she?” 

“  She  treats  me  very  kindly.” 

“  Harold  suggested  to  me  this  evening  at 
supper  that  I  should  take  your  place.  You 
needn’t  feel  anxious.  I  have  no  idea  of  doing 
so,  and  she  wouldn’t  have  me  if  I  had.” 

“  I  think  a  man  like  you  could  do  better.” 

“  I  am  willing  to.  But  here  comes  my 
friend  who  is  going  to  the  theater  with  me.” 

Looking  up,  Luke  was  surprised  to  see 
Stephen  Webb. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


haeold’s  temptation. 

/ 

MRS.  MERTON  was  rather  astonished 
when  her  grand-nephew  Harold  walked 
into  her  room  one  day  and  inquired  for  her 
health.  (She  had  been  absent  from  the  dinner 
table  on  account  of  a  headache.) 

“Thank  you,  Harold,”  she  said.  “I  am 
feeling  a  little  better.” 

“  Have  you  any  errand  you  would  like  to 

have  me  do  for  you  ?  ” 

* 

Mrs.  Merton  was  still  more  surprised,  for 
offers  of  services  were  very  rare  with  Harold. 

“Thank  you  again,”  she  said,  “but  Luke 
was  here  this  morning,  and  I  gave  him  two  or 
three  commissions.” 

Harold  frowned  a  little  at  the  mention  of 
Luke’s  name,  but  he  quickly  smoothed  his 
brow,  for  he  wished  to  propitiate  his  aunt. 

280 


hakold’s  temptation. 


231 


“  Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  read  to  you, 
Aunt  Eliza.” 

“Thank  you,  but  I  am  a  little  afraid  it 
wouldn’t  be  a  good  thing  for  my  head.  How 
are  you  getting  on  at  school,  Harold?” 

“  Pretty  well.” 

“You  don’t  want  to  go  to  college  %  ” 

“No.  I  think  I  would  rather  be  a  business 
man.” 

“  Well,  you  know  your  own  tastes  best.” 

“Aunt  Eliza,”  said  Harold,  after  a  pause, 
“  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.” 

“  Speak  out,  Harold.” 

“  Won’t  you  be  kind  enough  to  give  me  ten 
dollars  ?  ’  ’ 

“  Ten  dollars,”  repeated  the  old  lady,  eyeing 
Harold  closely.  “Why  do  you  want  ten 
dollars  ?  ” 

“You  see,  mother  keeps  me  very  close. 
All  the  fellows  have  more  money  to  spend 
than  I.” 

> 

“  How  much  does  your  mother  give  you  as 
an  allowance  ?  ” 

“  Two  dollars  a  week.” 

“  It  seems  to  me  that  is  liberal,  considering 


232 


LUKE  WALTON. 


that  yon  don’ t  have  to  pay  for  yonr  board  or 
clothes.” 

“A  boy  in  my  position  is  expected  to  spend 
money.” 

“  Who  expects  it  ?  ” 

“  Why,  everybody.” 

“  By  the  way,  what  is  your  position  ?  ”  asked 
the  old  lady  pointedly. 

“  Why,”  said  Harold,  uneasily,  “  I  am  sup¬ 
posed  to  be  rich,  as  I  live  in  a  nice  neighbor¬ 
hood  on  a  fashionable  street.” 

“  That  doesn’t  make  you  rich,  does  it  ?  ” 

“No,”  answered  Harold,  with  hesitation. 

“  You  don’t  feel  absolutely  obliged  to  spend 
more  than  your  allowance,  do  you  ?  ’  ’ 

“  Well,  you  see,  the  fellows  think  that  I  am 
mean  if  I  don’t.  There’s  Ben  Clark  has  an 
allowance  of  five  dollars  a  week,  and  he  is 
three  months  younger  than  I  am.” 

4  ‘  Then  I  think  his  parents  or  guardians  are 
very  unwise.  How  does  he  spend  his  liberal 
allowance  ?  ’  ’ 

“  Oh,  he  has  a  good  time.” 

“  I  am  afraid  it  isn’t  the  sort  of  good  time  I 
would  approve.” 


haeold' s  temptation. 


233 


4  c  Luke  has  more  money  than  I  have,  and  he 
is  only  a  newsboy,”  grumbled  Harold. 

44  How  do  you  know  ?  ” 

44 1  notice  he  always  has  money.” 

44 1  doubt  whether  he  spends  half  a  dollar  a 
week  on  his  own  amusement.  He  has  a  mother 
and  young  brother  to  support.” 

4‘  He  says  so  !  ” 

44  So  you  doubt  it?  ” 

44  It  may  be  true.” 

44  If  you  find  it  isn’t  true,  you  can  let  me 
know.’  ’ 

Harold  did  not  answer.  He  had  no  real 
doubt  on  the  subject,  but  liked  to  say  some¬ 
thing  ill-natured  about  Luke. 

44 1  am  sorry  you  think  so  much  more  of 
Luke  than  of  me,”  complained  Harold. 

44  How  do  you  know  I  do  ?  ” 

44  Mother  thinks  so  as  well  as  I.” 

44  Suppose  we  leave  Luke  out  of  consider¬ 
ation.  I  shall  think  as  much  of  you  as  you 
deserve.” 

Harold  rose  from  his  seat. 

44  As  you  have  no  errand  for  me,  Aunt  Eliza, 
I  will  go,”  he  said. 


234 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Wait  a  moment.” 

Mrs.  Merton  unlocked  a  drawer  in  a  work- 
table,  took  out  a  morocco  pocketbook,  and  ex¬ 
tracted  therefrom  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

“  You  have  asked  me  a  favor,”  she  said, 
“and  I  will  grant  it — for  once.  Here  are 
ten  dollars.” 

“  Thank  you,”  said  Harold  joyfully. 

“I  wont  even  ask  you  how  you  propose  to 
spend  it.  I  thought  of  doing  so,  but  it  would 
imply  distrust,  and  for  this  occasion  I  wont 
show  any.” 

“You  are  very  kind,  Aunt  Eliza.” 

% 

“I  am  glad  you  think  so.  You  are  wel¬ 
come  to  the  money.” 

Harold  left  the  room  in  high  spirits.  He  de¬ 
cided  not  to  let  his  mother  know  that  he  had 
received  so  large  a  sum,  as  she  might  inquire 
to  what  use  he  intended  to  put  it ;  and  some 
of  his  expenditures  he  felt  pretty  sure  would 
not  be  approved  by  her. 

He  left  the  house,  and  going  down-town 
joined  a  couple  of  friends  of  his  own  stamp. 
They  adjourned  to  a  billiard  saloon,  and  be¬ 
tween  billiards,  bets  upon  the  game,  and 


Harold’s  temptation. 


235 


drinks,  Harold  managed  to  spend  three  dollars 
before  supper  time. 

Three  days  later  the  entire  sum  given  him 
by  his  aunt  was  gone. 

When  Harold  made  this  discovery  he 
sighed.  His  dream  was  over.  It  had  been 
pleasant  as  long  as  it  lasted,  but  it  was  over 
too  soon. 

4  4  Now,  I  must  go  back  to  my  mean  allow¬ 
ance,”  he  said  to  himself,  in  a  discontented 
tone.  4  4  Aunt  Eliza  might  give  me  ten  dollars 
every  week  just  as  well  as  not.  She  is  posi¬ 
tively  rolling  in  wealth,  while  I  have  to  grub 
along  like  a  newsboy.  Why,  that  fellow 
Luke  has  a  good  deal  more  money  than  I.” 

A  little  conversation  which  he  had  with  his 
Uncle  W arner  made  his  discontent  more  intense. 

44  Hallo,  Harold,  what  makes  you  look  so 
blue  \  ”  he  asked  one  day. 

44  Because  I  haven’t  got  any  money,”  an¬ 
swered  Harold. 

44  Doesn’t  your  mother  or  Aunt  Eliza  give 
you  any  ?” 

44 1  get  a  little,  but  it  isn’t  as  much  as  the 
other  fellows  get.” 


236 


LUKE  WALTOK. 


“  How  much  ?” 

“Two  dollars  a  week.” 

“  It  is  more  than  I  had  when  I  was  of  your 
age.” 

“  That  don’t  make  it  any  better.” 

“Aunt  Eliza  isn’t  exactly  lavish,  still  she 
pays  Luke  Walton  generously.” 

“  Ho  you  know  how  much  he  gets  a  week  ?  ” 
asked  Harold  eagerly. 

“  Ten  dollars.” 

“  Ten  dollars  !  ”  ejaculated  Harold.  “You 
don’t  really  mean  it.” 

“  Yes,  I  do.  I  saw  her  pay  him  that  sum 
yesterday.  I  asked  her  if  it  wasn’t  liberal. 
She  admitted  it,  but  said  he  had  a  mother  and 
brother  to  support  !  ” 

“It’s  a  shame!  ”  cried  Harold  passion¬ 
ately. 

“Why  is  it?  The  money  is  her  own,  isn’t 
it?” 

“She  ought  not  to  treat  a  stranger  better 
than  her  own  nephew.” 

“That  means  me,  I  judge,”  said  Warner, 
smiling.  “Well,  there  isn’t  anything  we  can 
do  about  it,  is  there  ?  ” 


Harold’s  temptation. 


237 


••No,  I  don’t  know  as  there  is,”  replied 
Harold  slowly. 

But  he  thought  over  what  his  uncle  had 
told  him,  and  it  made  him  very  bitter.  He 
brooded  over  it  till  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it 
were  a  great  outrage.  He  felt  that  he  was 
treated  with  the  greatest  injustice.  He  was 
incensed  with  his  aunt,  but  still  more  so  with 
Luke  Walton,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  an 
artful  adventurer. 

Ikwas  while  he  was  cherishing  these  feel¬ 
ings  that  a  great  temptation  came  to  him.  He 
found  one  day  in  the  street  a  bunch  of  keys  of 
various  sizes  attached  to  a  small  steel  ring. 
He  picked  it  up,  and  quick  as  a  flash  there 
came  to  him  the  thought  of  the  drawer  in  his 
aunt’s  work-table,  from  which  he  had  seen  her 
take  out  the  morocco  pocketbook.  He  had 
observed  that  the  ten-dollar  bill  she  gave  him 
was  only  one  out  of  a  large  roll,  and  his 
cupidity  was  aroused.  He  rapidly  concocted 
a  scheme  by  which  he  would  be  enabled  to 
provide  himself  with  money,  and  throw  sus¬ 
picion  upon  Luke. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


HAROLD  S  THEFT 


HE  next  morning  Mrs.  Merton,  escorted 


JL  by  Luke,  went  to  make  some  purchases 
in  the  city.  Mrs.  Tracy  went  out  also,  having 
an  engagement  with  one  of  her  friends  liv¬ 
ing  on  Cottage  Grove  Avenue.  Harold  went 
out  directly,  after  breakfast,  but  returned  at 
half-past  ten.  He  went  upstairs  and  satisfied 
himself  that,  except  the  servants,  he  was  alone 
in  the  house. 

uThe  coast  is  clear,”  he  said  joyfully. 
“  Xow  if  the  key  only  fits.” 

He  went  into  his  aunt’s  sitting-room,  and, 
not  anticipating  any  interruption,  directed  his 
steps  at  once  to  the  small  table,  from  a  drawer 
in  which  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Merton  take  the 
morocco  pocketbook.  He  tried  one  key  after 
another,  and  finally  succeeded  in  opening  the 
drawer.  He  drew  it  out  with  nervous  anxiety, 
fearing  that  the  pocketbook  might  have  been 


238 


hakold’s  theft. 


239 


removed,  in  which  case  all  his  work  would 
have  been  thrown  away. 

But  no  !  Fortune  favored  him  this  time,  if 
it  can  be  called  a  favor.  There  in  plain  sight 
was  the  morocco  pocketbook.  Harold,  pale 
with  excitement,  seized  and  opened  it.  His 
eyes  glistened  as  he  saw  that  it  was  well 
tilled.  .  He  took  out  the  roll  of  bills  and 
counted  them.  There  were  five  ten-dollar  bills 
and  three  fives — sixty-five  dollars  in  all. 
There  would  have  been  more,  but  Mrs.  Merton, 
before  going  out,  had  taken  four  fives,  which 
she  intended  to  use. 

It  was  Harold’s  first  theft,  and  he  trembled 
with  agitation  as  he  thrust  the  pocketbook 
into  his  pocket.  He  would  have  trembled  still 
more  if  he  had  known  that  his  mother’s  confi¬ 
dential  maid  and  seamstress,  Felicie  Lacou- 
vreur,  had  seen  everything*  through  the  crevice 
formed  by  the  half-open  door. 

Felicie  smiled  to  herself  as  she  moved  noise¬ 
lessly  away  from  her  post  of  concealment. 

“  Master  Harold  is  trying  a  dangerous  exper¬ 
iment,”  she  said  to  herself.  “Now  he  is  in 
my  power.  He  has  been  insolent  to  me  more 


240 


LUKE  WALTON. 


than  once,  as  if,  forsooth,  he  were  made  of 
superior  clay,  but  Felicie,  though  only  a  poor 
servant,  is  not,  thank  Heaven,  a  thief  as  he  is. 
It  is  a  very  interesting  drama.  I  shall  wait 
patiently  till  it  is  played  out.” 

In  his  hurry  Harold  came  near  leaving  the 
room  with  the  table  drawer  open.  But  he  be¬ 
thought  himself  in  time,  went  back,  and  locked 
it  securely.  It  was  like  shutting  the  stable 
after  the  horse  was  stolen.  Then  with  the 
stolen  money  in  his  possession  he  left  the 
house.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  found  at  home 
when  his  aunt  returned. 

Harold  had  sixty -five  dollars  in  his  pocket — 
an  amount  quite  beyond  what  he  had  ever  be¬ 
fore  had  at  his  disposal — but  it  must  be  ad¬ 
mitted  that  he  did  not  feel  as  happy  as  he  had 
expected.  If  he  had  come  by  it  honestly — if, 
for  instance,  it  had  been  given  him,  his  heart 
would  have  beat  high  with  exultation,  but  as 
it  was  he  walked  along  with  clouded  brow. 
Presently  he  ran  across  one  of  his  friends,  who 
noticed  his  discomposure. 

“  What’s  the  matter,  Harold?’’  he  asked. 
“You  are  in  the  dumps.” 


hakold’s  theft. 


241 


“Oh,  no,”  answered  Harold,  forcing  himself 
to  assume  a  more  cheerful  aspect.  “I  have  no 
reason  to  feel  blue.” 

“You  are  only  acting,  then?  I  must  con¬ 
gratulate  you  on  your  success.  You  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  the  knight  of  the  sorrow¬ 
ful  countenance.” 

“Who  is  he?”  asked  Harold,  who  was  not 
literary. 

“Don  Quixote.  Did  you  never  hear  of 
him?” 

“  Ho.” 

“Then  your  education  has  been  neglected. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day  ?  ” 

“  I  don’t  know.” 

“  Suppose  we  visit  a  dime  museum  ?  ” 

“All  right.” 

“That  is,  if  you  have  any  money.  I  am  high 
and  dry.” 

“Yes,  I  have  some  money.” 

They  went  to  a  dime  museum  on  Clark 
Street.  Harold  surprised  his  companion  by  pay¬ 
ing  for  the  two  tickets  out  of  a  five-dollar  bill. 

“You’re  flush,  Harold,”  said  his  friend. 

“  Has  anybody  left  you  a  fortune  ?  ” 

16 


242 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“No,”  answered  Harold  uneasily.  “I’ve 
been  saving  up  money  lately.” 

u  You  have  ?  Why,  I’ve  heard  of  your  be¬ 
ing  at  theaters,  playing  billiards,  and  so  on.’  ’ 

“  Look  here,  Robert  Greve,  I  don't  see  why 
you  need  trouble  yourself  so  much  about  where 
I  get  my  money.” 

“Don’t  be  cranky,  Harold,”  said  Robert 
'good-liumoredly,  “I  wont  say  another  word. 
Only  I  am  glad  to  find  my  friends  in  a  healthy 
financial  condition.  I  only  wish  I  could  say 
the  same  of  myself.” 

There  happened  to  be  a  matinee  at  the  Grand 
Opera  House,  and  Harold  proposed  going. 
First,  however,  they  took  a  nice  lunch  at 
Brockw^ay  &  Milan’s,  a  mammoth  restaurant 
on  Clark  Street,  Harold  paying  the  bill. 

As  they  came  out  of  the  theater  Luke  Wal¬ 
ton  chanced  to  x>ass. 

“  Good  afternoon,  Harold,”  he  said. 

Harold  tossed  his  head,  but  did  not  reply. 

“  Who  is  that  boy — one  of  your  acquaint¬ 
ances?”  asked  Robert  Greve. 

“  He  works  for  my  aunt,”  answered  Harold. 
“  It  is  like  his  impudence  to  speak  to  me.” 


Harold's  theft. 


243 


“  Why  shouldn’t  lie  speak  to  you,  if  you 
know  him?”  asked  Robert  Greve,  who  did 
not  share  Harold’s  foolish  pride. 

“  He  appears  to  think  he  is  my  equal,”  con¬ 
tinued  Harold. 

“  He  seems  a  nice  boy.” 

“  You  don’t  know  him  as  I  do.  He  is  a  com¬ 
mon  newsbov.” 

“  Suppose  he  is,  that  doesn’t  hurt  him,  does 
it?” 

\ 

u  You  know  what  I  mean.  You  don't  think 
a  common  newsboy  fit  to  associate  with  on 
equal  terms,  do  you  ?  ” 

Robert  Greve  laughed. 

“You  are  too  high-toned,  Harold,”  he  said. 
“If  he  is  a  nice  boy,  I  don’t  care  what  sort  of 
business  a  friend  of  mine  follows.” 

“Well,  I  do,”  snapped  Harold,  “and  so 
does  iny  mother.  I  don’t  believe  in  being 
friends  with  the  rag,  tag,  and  bobtail  of 
society.” 

Luke  Walton  did  not  allow  his  feelings  to 
be  hurt  by  the  decided  rebuff  he  had  received 
from  Harold. 

“I  owed  it  to  myself  to  act  like  a  gentle- 


244 


LUKE  WALTON. 


man,”  he  reflected.  “  If  Harold  doesn’t 
choose  to  be  polite  it  is  his  lookout,  not  mine. 
He  looks  down  on  me  because  I  am  a  working 
boy.  I  don't  mean  always  to  be  a  newsboy  or 
an  errand-boy.  I  shall  work  my  way  upward 
as  fast  as  I  can,  and  in  time  I  may  come  to  fill 
a  good  place  in  society.” 

It  will  be  seen  that  Luke  was  ambitious. 
He  looked  above  and  beyond  the  present, 
and  determined  to  improve  his  social  condi¬ 
tion. 

It  was  six  o’clock  when  Harold  ascended  the 
steps  of  the  mansion  on  Prairie  Avenue.  He 
had  devoted  the  day  to  amusement,  but  had 
derived  very  little  pleasure  from  the  money  he 
had  expended.  He  had  very  little  left  of  the 
five-dollar  bill  which  he  had  first  changed  at 
the  Dime  Museum.  It  was  not  easy  to  say 
where  his  money  had  gone,  but  it  had  melted 
away,  in  one  shape  or  another. 

“  I  wonder  whether  Aunt  Eliza  has  dis¬ 
covered  her  loss,”  thought  Harold.  “I  hope 
I  shant  show  any  signs  of  nervousness  when  1 
meet  her.  I  don’t  see  how  she  can  possibly 
suspect  me.  If  anything  is  said  about  the  lost 


Harold’s  theft. 


245 


pocketbook,  I  will  try  to  throw  suspicion  on 
Luke  Walton.” 

Harold  did  not  stop  to  think  how  mean  this 
would  be.  Self-preservation,  it  has  been  said, 
is  the  first  law  of  nature,  and  self-preservation 
required  that  he  should  avert  suspicion  from 
himself  by  any  means  in  his  power.  He  went 
into  the  house  whistling,  as  if  to  show  that  his 
mind  was  quite  free  from  care. 

In  the  hall  he  met  Felicie. 
u  What  do  you  think  has  happened,  Master 
Harold  \  ”  said  the  French  maid. 
u  I  don’t  know,  I’m  sure.” 

“  Your  aunt  has  been  robbed.  Some  money 
has  been  taken  from  her  room.” 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


LUKE  WALTON  IS  SUSPECTED  OF  THEFT. 

HAROLD  was  prepared  for  the  announce¬ 
ment,  as  he  felt  confident  his  aunt  would 
soon  discover  her  loss,  but  he  felt  a  little  nerv¬ 
ous  nevertheless. 

“  You  don’t  mean  it !  ”  he  ejaculated  in  well- 
counterfeited  surprise. 

“  It’ s  a  fact.’  ’ 

* 

“When  did  Aunt  Eliza  discover  her  loss, 
Felicie?” 

“  As  soon  as  she  got  home.  She  went  to  her 
drawer  to  put  back  some  money  she  had  on 
hand,  and  found  the  pocketbook  gone.” 

“Was  there  much  money  in  it  ?  ” 

“  She  doesn’t  say  how  much.” 

“Well,”  said  Harold,  thinking  it  time  to 
carry  out  the  programme  he  had  determined 
upon,  “  I  can’t  say  I  am  surprised.” 

“You  are  not  surprised  !  ”  repeated  Felicie 

246 


LUKE  SUSPECTED  OF  THEFT. 


247 


9 

slowly.  “Why?  Do  you  know  anything 
about  it  ?  ” 

u  Do  I  know  anything  about  it?”  said 
Harold,  coloring.  “What  do  you  mean  by 
that  ?  ” 

“Because  you  say  you  are  not  surprised.  1 
was  surprised,  and  so  was  the  old  lady,  and 
your  mother.” 

“You  must  be  very  stupid  not  to  under¬ 
stand  what  I  mean,”  said  Harold,  annoyed. 

“Then  I  am  very  stupid,  for  I  do  not  know 
at  all  why  you  are  not  surprised.” 

“  I  mean  that  the  boy  Aunt  Eliza  employs — - 
that  boy,  Luke — has  taken  the  money.” 

“  Oh,  you  think  the  boy  Luke  has  taken  the 

money.” 

«/ 

“Certainly!  Why  shouldn’t  he?  He  is  a 
poor  newsboy.  It  would  be  a  great  tempta¬ 
tion  to  him.  You  know  he  is  always  shown 
into  Aunt  Eliza’s  sitting-room,  and  is  often 
there  alone.” 

“  That  is  true.” 

“And  of  course  nothing  is  more  natural 
than  that  he  should  take  the  money.” 

“  But  the  drawer  was  locked.” 


248 


LUKE  WALTON-. 


“  He  had  some  keys  in  his  pocket,  very 
likely.  Most  boys  have  keys.” 

“  Oh,  most  boys  have  keys.  Have  you  per¬ 
haps  keys,  Master  Harold  %  ” 

“  It  seems  to  me  you  are  asking  very  foolish 
questions,  Felicie.  I  have  the  key  to  my 
trunk.” 

“But  do  newsboys  have  trunks?  Why 
should  this  boy  Luke  have  keys  ?  I  do  not 
see.” 

“  Well,  I’ll  go  upstairs,”  said  Harold,  who 
was  getting  tired  of  the  interview  and  rather 
uneasy  at  Felicie’ s  remarks  and  questions. 

As  Felicie  had  said,  Mrs.  Merton  discovered 
her  loss  almost  as  soon  as  she  came  home.  She 
had  used  but  a  small  part  of  the  money  she 
took  with  her,  and  not  caring  to  carry  it  about 
with  her,  opened  the  drawer  to  replace  it  in 
the  pocketbook. 

To  her  surprise,  the  pocketbook  had  dis¬ 
appeared. 

Now  the  contents  of  the  pocketbook,  though 
a  very  respectable  sum,  were  not  sufficient  to 
put  Mrs.  Merton  to  any  inconvenience.  Still, 
no  one  likes  to  lose  money,  especially  if  there 


249 


LUKE  SUSPECTED  OF  THEFT. 

is  reason  to  believe  that  it  has  been  stolen,  and 
Mrs.  Merton  felt  annoyed.  She  drew  out  the 
drawer  to  its  full  extent,  and  examined  it  care¬ 
fully  in  every  part,  but  there  was  no  trace  of 
the  morocco  pocketbook. 

She  locked  the  drawer,  and  went  downstairs 
to  her  niece. 

“  What’s  the  matter,  Aunt  Eliza?”  asked 
Mrs.  Tracy,  seeing  at  a  glance,  from  her  aunt' s 
expression,  that  something  had  happened. 

u  There  is  a  thief  in  the  house  !  ”  said  the 
old  lady  abruptly. 

“  What !  ” 

“  There  is  a  thief  in  the  house  !  ” 

“  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  ” 

“  You  remember  my  small  work-table  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

“  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  keeping  a  sim¬ 
ply  of  money  in  a  pocketbook  in  one  of  the 
drawers.  I  just  opened  the  drawer,  and  the 
money  is  gone  !  ” 

“Was  there  much  money  in  the  pocket- 
book  ?  ” 

“  I  happen  to  know  just  how  much.  There 
were  sixty-five  dollars.” 


250 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“And  you  can  find  nothing  of  the  pocket- 
book?” 

“No  ;  that  and  the  money  are  both  gone.” 

“  I  am  sorry  for  your  loss,  Aunt  Eliza.” 

“I  don’t  care  for  the  money.  I  shall  not 
miss  it.  I  am  amply  provided  with  funds, 
thanks  to  Providence  !  But  it  is  the  mystery 
that  puzzles  me.  Who  can  have  robbed  me  %  ” 

Mrs.  Tracy  nodded  her  head  significantly. 

“I  don’t  think  there  need  beany  mystery 
about  that,”  she  said  pointedly. 

“  Why  not  ?  ” 

“  I  can  guess  who  robbed  you.” 

“Then  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  en¬ 
lighten  me,  for  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  fix  upon 
the  thief.” 

“It’s  that  boy  of  yours.  I  haven’t  a  doubt 
of  it.” 

“You  mean  Luke  Walton  \  ” 

“Yes,  the  newsboy  whom  you  have  so  im¬ 
prudently  trusted.” 

‘ 4  What  are  your  reasons  for  thinking  he  is 
the  thief  ?  ”  asked  the  old  lady  calmly. 

“He  is  often  alone  in  the  room  where  the 
work-table  stands,  is  he  not  ?  ” 


LUKE  SUSPECTED  OF  THEFT. 


251 


“  Yes  ;  he  waits  for  me  there.” 

“  What  could  be  easier  than  for  him  to  open 
the  drawer  and  abstract  the  pocketbook  %  ’  ’ 

“  It  would  be  possible,  but  he  would  have  to 
unlock  the  drawer.” 

“  Probably  he  took  an  impression  of  the  lock 
some  day,  and  had  a  key  made.” 

“  You  are  giving  him  credit  for  an  unusual 
amount  of  cunning.” 

“  I  always  supposed  he  was  sly.” 

“  I  am  aware,  Louisa,  that  you  never  liked 
the  boy.” 

“I  admit  that.  What  has  happened  seems 
to  show  that  I  was  right.” 

“  Now  you  are  jumping  to  a  conclusion. 
You  decide  without  any  proof,  or  even  inves¬ 
tigation,  that  Luke  took  the  money.” 

“  I  feel  convinced  of  it.” 

“  It  appears  to  me  that  you  are  not  treating 
the  boy  fairly.” 

“My  instinct  tells  me  that  it  is  he  who  has 
robbed  you.” 

“  Instinct  would  have  no  weight  in  law.” 

“If  he  didn’t  take  it,  who  did?”  asked 
Mrs.  Tracy  triumphantly. 


252 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“That  question  is  not  easy  to  answer, 
Louisa.” 

“I  am  glad  you  admit  so  much,  Aunt 
Eliza.” 

“I  admit  nothing  ;  but  I  will  think  over  the 
matter  carefully,  and  investigate.” 

“  Do  so,  Aunt  Eliza!  In  the  end  you  will 
agree  with  me.” 

“  In  the  mean  while,  Louisa,  there  is  one 
thing  I  must  insist  upon.” 

‘  ‘  What  is  that  ?  ’  ’ 

4  ‘  That  you  leave  the  matter  wholly  in  my 
hands.” 

“  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it.” 

“  There  are  some  circumstances  connected 
with  the  robbery  which  I  have  not  mentioned.” 

“  What  are  they?”  asked  Mrs.  Tracy,  her 
face  expressing  curiosity. 

‘  ‘  I  shall  keep  them  to  myself  for  the 
present.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  looked  disappointed. 

“If  you  mention  them  to  me,  I  may  think 
of  something  that  would  help  you.” 

“If  I  need  help  in  that  way,  I  will  come  to 
you.” 


LUKE  SUSPECTED  OF  THEFT. 


253 


“Meanwhile,  shall  you  continue  to  employ 
the  boy  ?  ’  ’ 

u  Yes  ;  why  not  ?  ” 

“  He  might  steal  something  more.” 

“  I  will  risk  it.” 

Mrs.  Merton  returned  to  her  room,  and 
presently  Harold  entered  his  mother’s  pres¬ 
ence. 

“  What  is  this  I  hear  about  Aunt  Eliza  hav¬ 
ing  some  money  stolen  ?  ”  he  asked. 

“It  is  true.  She  has  lost  sixty-five  dol¬ 
lars.” 

“Felicietold  me  something  about  it — that 
it  was  taken  out  of  her  drawer.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  went  into  particulars,  uncon¬ 
scious  that  her  son  was  better  informed  than 
herself. 

“  Does  aunt  suspect  any  one  ?  ”  asked  Har¬ 
old  uneasily. 

“She  doesn’t,  but  I  do.” 

“Who  is  it?” 

“That  boy,  Luke  Walton.” 

“  The  very  one  I  thought  of,”  said  Harold 
eagerly.  “Did  you  mention  him  to  Aunt 
Eliza?” 


254 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“Yes;  but  she  is  so  infatuated  with  him 
that  she  didn’t  take  the  suggestion  kindly. 
She  has  promised  to  investigate,  however,  and 
meanwhile  doesn’t  want  us  to  interfere.” 

“Things  are  working  round  as  I  want 
them,”  thought  Harold. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WHO  STOLE  THE  MONEY  ? 

DID  Mrs.  Merton  suspect  any  one  of  the 
theft?  This  is .  a  question  which  will 
naturally  suggest  itself  to  the  reader. 

No  thought  of  the  real  thief  entered  her 
mind.  Though  she  was  fully  sensible  of  Har¬ 
old’s  faults,  though  she  knew  him  to  be  self¬ 
ish,  bad-tempered,  and  envious,  she  did  not 
suppose  him  capable  of  theft.  The  one  who 
occurred  to  her  as  most  likely  to  have  robbed 
her  was  her  recently  returned  nephew,  War¬ 
ner  Powell,  who  had  been  compelled  to  leave 
Chicago  years  before  on  account  of  having 
yielded  to  a  similar  temptation.  She  knew 
that  he  was  hard  up  for  money,  and  it  was 
possible  that  he  had  opened  the  table-drawer, 
and  abstracted  the  pocketbook.  As  to  Luke 
Walton,  she  was  not  at  all  affected  by  the  in¬ 
sinuations  of  her  niece.  She  knew  that  Mrs. 

255 


256 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Tracy  and  Harold  had  a  prejudice  against 
Luke,  and  that  this  would  make  them  ready 
to  believe  anything  against  him. 

She  was  curious,  however,  to  hear  what 
Warner  had  to  say  about  the  robbery.  Would 
he  too  try  to  throw  suspicion  upon  Luke  in 
order  to  screen  himself,  if  he  were  the  real 
thief  ?  This  remained  to  be  proved. 

Warner  Powell  did  not  return  to  the  house 
till  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  His  sister 
and  Harold  hastened  to  inform  him  of  what 
had  happened,  and  to  communicate  their  con¬ 
viction  that  Luke  was  the  thief.  Warner  said 
little,  but  his  own  suspicions  were  different. 
He  went  upstairs,  and  made  his  aunt  a  call. 

“Well,  Aunt,”  he  said,  “I  hear  you  have 
been  robbed.” 

“Yes,  Warner,  I  have  lost  some  money,” 
answered  the  old  lady  composedly. 

“  Louisa  told  me.” 

“  Yes  ;  she  suspects  Luke  of  being  the  thief. 
Do  you  agree  with  her  ?  ” 

“No,  I  don’t,”  answered  Warner. 

Mrs.  Merton’s  face  brightened,  and  she 
looked  kindly  at  Warner. 


WHO  STOLE  THE  MONEY  ? 


257 


“  Then  you  don’t  share  Louisa’s  prejudice 
against  Luke  ?  ”  she  said. 

“No  ;  I  like  the  boy.  I  would  sooner  sus¬ 
pect  myself  of  stealing  the  money,  for  you 
know,  Aunt  Eliza,  that  my  own  record  is  not 
a  good  one,  and  I  am  sure  Luke  is  an  honest 
boy.” 

Mrs.  Merton’s  face  fairly  beamed  with  de¬ 
light.  She  understood  very  well  the  low  and 
unworthy  motives  which  influenced  her  niece 
and  Harold,  and  it  was  a  gratifying  surprise 
to  find  that  her  nephew  was  free  from  envy 
and  jealousy. 

“Warner,”  she  said,  “what  you  say  does 
you  credit.  In  this  particular  case  I  Tcnow 
that  Luke  is  innocent.” 

“You  don’t  know  the  real  thief?”  asked 
Warner. 

“No,  but  my  reason  for  knowing  that  Luke 
is  innocent  I  will  tell  you.  The  money  was 
safe  in  my  drawer  when  I  went  out  this  morn¬ 
ing.  It  was  taken  during  my  absence  from 
the  house.  Luke  was  with  me  during  this 
whole  time.  Of  course  it  is  impossible  that 

he  should  be  the  thief,  therefore.” 

17 


258 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  I  see.  Did  you  tell  Louisa  this  ?  ” 

“No;  I  am  biding  my  time.  Besides,  I 
am  more  likely  to  find  the  real  thief,  if  it  is 
supposed  that  Luke  is  under  suspicion.” 

‘ 1  Tell  me  truly,  Aunt  Eliza,  didn’ t  you  sus¬ 
pect  me  ?  ” 

“  Since  you  ask  me,  Warner,  I  will  tell 
you  frankly  that  it  occurred  to  me  as  pos¬ 
sible  that  you  might  have  yielded  to  temp¬ 
tation.” 

“It  would  have  been  a  temptation,  for  I 
have  but  twenty-five  cents  in  my  pocket.  But 
even  if  I  had  known  where  you  kept  your 
money  (which  I  didn’t),  I  would  have  risked 
applying  to  you  for  a  loan — or  gift,  as  it  would 
have  turned  out  to  be — rather  than  fall  back 
into  my  old  disreputable  ways.” 

“  I  am  very  much  encouraged  by  what  you 
say,  Warner.  Here  are  ten  dollars.  Use  it  ju¬ 
diciously  ;  try  to  obtain  employment,  and  when 
it  is  gone  you  may  let  me  know.” 

“Aunt  Eliza,  you  are  kinder  to  me  than  I 
deserve.  I  will  make  a  real  effort  to  secure 
employment,  and  will  not  abuse  your  confi¬ 
dence.” 


WHO  STOLE  THE  MONEY  ? 


259 


“  Keep  that  promise,  Warner,  and  I  will  be 
your  friend.  One  thing  more  :  don’ t  tell  Lou¬ 
isa  what  has  passed  between  us.  I  can  at  any 
time  clear  Luke,  but  for  the  present  I  will  let 
her  think  I  am  uncertain  on  that  point.  I 
shall  not  forget  that  you  took  the  boy’s  part 
when  your  sister  condemned  him.” 

“  Louisa  and  Harold  can  see  no  good  in  the 
boy  ;  but  I  have  observed  him  carefully,  and 
formed  my  owh  opinion.” 

Warner  could  have  done  nothing  better  cal¬ 
culated  to  win  his  aunt’s  favor  than  to  express 
a  favorable  opinion  of  Luke.  It  must  be  said, 
however,  in  justice  to  him,  that  this  had  not 
entered  into  his  calculations.  He  really  felt 
kindly  toward  the  boy  whom  his  sister  de¬ 
nounced  as  “  sly  and  artful,”  and  liked  him 
much  better  than  his  own  nephew,  Harold, 
who,  looking  upon  Warner  as  a  poor  relation, 
had  not  thought  it  necessary  to  treat  him  with 
much  respect  or  attention.  He  had  a  better 
heart  and  a  better  disposition  than  Mrs. 
Tracy  or  Harold,  notwithstanding  his  early 
shortcomings. 

“Who  could  have  been  the  thief  \  ”  Warner 


260 


LUKE  WALTON. 


asked  himself,  as  he  left  his  aunt’s  sitting- 
room.  u  Could  it  have  been  Harold  ?  ” 

He  resolved  to  watch  his  nephew  carefully, 
and  seek  some  clew  that  would  lead  to  a  solu¬ 
tion  of  the  mystery. 

“I  luype  it  isn’t  my  nephew,”  he  said  to 
himself.  “  I  don’t  want  him  to  follow  in  the 
steps  of  his  scapegrace  uncle.  But  I  would 
sooner  suspect  him  than  Luke  Walton.  They 
say  blood  is  thicker  than  water,  but  I  confess 
that  I  like  the  newsboy  better  than  I  do  my 
high-toned  nephew.” 

‘  ‘  Have  vou  made  any  discovery  as  to  the 
theft,  Aunt  Eliza?  ”  asked  Mrs.  Tracy,  as  her 
aunt  seated  herself  at  the  evening  repast. 

“  Nothing  positive,”  answered  the  old  lady 
significantly. 

“  Have  you  discovered  anything  at  all?” 

“I  have  discovered  who  is  not  the  thief,” 
said  Mrs.  Merton. 

“  Then  you  had  suspicions  ?  ” 

“  No  definite  suspicions.” 

“  Wouldn’t  it  be  well  to  talk  over  the  mat¬ 
ter  freely  with  me  ?  Something  might  be  sug¬ 
gested.” 


WHO  STOLE  THE  MONEY  ? 


261 


“  I  beg  your  pardon,  Louisa,  but  I  think  it 
would  be  well  to  banish  this  disagreeable  mat¬ 
ter  from  our  table  talk.  If  I  should  stand  in 
need  of  advice,  I  will  consult  you.” 

“  I  don’t  want  to  obtrude  my  advice,  but  I 
will  venture  to  suggest  that  you  call  in  a  pri¬ 
vate  detective.” 

Harold  looked  alarmed. 

“I  wouldn’t  bother  with  a  detective,”  he 
said.  “  They  don’t  know  half  as  much  as  they 
pretend.” 

“  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  Harold,” 
said  Mrs.  Merton.  “I  will  act  as  my  own 
detective.” 

Save  for  the  compliment  to  Harold,  Mrs. 
Tracy  was  not  pleased  with  this  speech  of  her 
aunt. 

“  At  any  rate,”  she  said,  “  you  would  do 
well  to  keep  a  strict  watch  over  that  boy,  Luke 
Walton.” 

“I  shall,”  answered  the  old  lady  simply. 

Mrs.  Tracy  looked  triumphant.  It  was  clear, 
she  thought,  that  Mrs.  Merton  was  coming  to 
her  view  of  the  matter. 

Warner  kept  silence,  but  a  transient  smile 


262 


LUKE  WALTON. 


passed  over  liis  face  as  lie  saw  liow  neatly 
Aunt  Eliza  had  deceived  his  astute  sister. 

“  What  do  you  think,  Warner?”  asked 
Mrs.  Tracy,  desirous  of  additional  support. 

“I  think  Aunt  Eliza  will  get  at  the  truth 
sooner  or  later.  Of  course  I  will  do  anything 
to  help  her,  but  I  don’t  want  to  interfere.” 

“Don’t  you  think  she  ought  to  discharge 
Luke?” 

“If  she  did,  she  would  have  no  chance  of 
finding  out  whether  he  was  guilty  or  not.” 

“  That  is  true.  I  did  not  think  of  that.” 

“  Warner  is  more  sensible  than  any  of  you,” 
said  Mrs.  Merton. 

“  I  am  glad  you  have  changed  your  opinion 
of  him,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  sharply. 

She  was  now  beginning  to  be  jealous  of  her 
scapegrace  brother. 

“So  am  I,”  said  Warner,  smiling.  “At  the 
same  time  I  don’t  blame  aunt  for  her  former 
opinion.” 

The  next  morning  Harold  was  about  leaving 
the  house  when  Felicie,  the  French  maid,  came 
up  softly  and  said,  “Master  Harold,  may  I 
have  a  word  with  you  ?  ” 


WHO  STOLE  THE  MONEY  ?  '  263 

“  I  am  in  a  hurry,’ ’  said  Harold  impatiently. 

u  It  is  about  the  stolen  money,”  continued 
Felicie  in  her  soft  voice.  “  You  had  better 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say.  I  have  found  out 
who  took  it.” 

Harold’s  heart  gave  a  sudden  thump,  and 
his  face  indicated  dismay. 


» 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


HAROLD  AND  FELIOIE  MAKE  AN  ARRANGEMENT. 


u 


OU  have  found  out  who  took  the 
money  ?  ’ 9  stammered  Harold. 


44  Yes.” 

4 4 I  didn’ t  think  it  would  be  found  out  so 
soon;”  Harold  said,  trying  to  recover  his 
equanimity.  u  Of  course  it  was  taken  by 
Luke  Walton.” 

u  You  are  quite  mistaken,”  said  Felicie. 
4 4  Luke  Walton  did  not  take  it.” 

Harold’s  heart  gave  another  thump.  He 
scented  danger,  but  remained  silent. 

44  You  don’t  ask  me  who  took  the  money  1  ” 
said  Felicie  after  a  pause. 

4 4  Because  I  don’t  believe  you,”  returned 
Harold.  44  You’ve  probably  got  some  sus¬ 
picion.” 

44 1  have  more  than  that.  The  person  who 
took  the  money  was  seen  at  his  work.” 


264 


HAKOLD  AND  FELICIE. 


265 


Harold  turned  pale. 

“There  is  no  use  in  mincing  matters,”  con¬ 
tinued  Felicie.  ‘ 4  You  took  the  money  !  ’  ’ 

“  What  do  you  mean  by  such  imperti¬ 
nence  \  ”  gasped  Harold. 

“  It  is  no  impertinence.  If  you  doubt  my 
knowledge,  I’ll  tell  you  the  particulars.  You 
opened  the  drawer  with  one  of  a  bunch  of  keys 
which  you  took  from  your  pocket,  took  out  a 
morocco  pocketbook,  opened  it,  and  counted 
the  roll  of  bills  which  it  contained,  then  put 
the  pocketbook  into  your  pocket,  locked  the 
drawer,  and  left  the  room.” 

“That's  a  tine  story,”  said  Harold,  forcing 
himself  to  speak.  “I  dare  say  all  this  hap¬ 
pened,  only  you  were  the  one  who  opened  the 
drawer.” 

“  I  saw  it  all  through  a  crack  in  the  half- 
open  door,”  continued  Felicie,  not  taking  the 
trouble  to  answer  his  accusation.  “If  you 
want  further  proof,  suppose  you  feel  in  your 
pocket.  I  presume  the  pocketbook  is  there  at 
this  moment.” 

Instinctively  Harold  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  then  suddenly  withdrew  it  as  if  his 


266 


LUKE  WALTON. 


fingers  were  burned,  for  the  pocketbook  was 
there,  as  Felicie  had  said.  / 

‘  ‘  There  is  one  thing  more,  ’  ’  said  Felicie,  as 
she  drew  from  her  own  pocket  a  bunch  of  keys. 
“  I  found  this  bunch  of  keys  in  your  room  this 
morning.” 

“They  are  not  mine,”  answered  Harold 
hastily. 

“  I  don’t  know  anything  about  that.  They 
are  the  ones  you  had  in  your  hand  when  you 
opened  the  drawer.  I  think  this  is  the  key 
you  used.” 

“  The  keys  belong  to  you  !  ”  asserted  Harold 
desperately. 

‘  ‘  Thank  you  for  giving  them  to  me,  but  I 
shall  have  no  use  for  them,”  said  Felicie  cool¬ 
ly.  “  And  now,  Master  Harold,  do  you  want 
to  know  why  I  have  told  you  this  story  ?  ” 

“Yes,”  answered  Harold  feebly. 

“  Because  I  think  it  will  be  for  our  mutual 
advantage  to  come  to  an  understanding.  I 
don’t  want  to  inform  your  aunt  of  what  I  have 
seen  unless  you  compel  me  to  do  so.” 

“How  should  I  compel  you  to  do  so?” 
stammered  Harold  uneasily. 


HAROLD  AND  FELICIE. 


267 


“Step  into  the  parlor  where  we  can  talk 
comfortably.  Yonr  aunt  is  upstairs  and  your 
mother  is  out,  so  that  no  one  will  hear  us.” 

Harold  felt  that  he  w^as  in  the  power  of  the 
cunning  Felicie,  and  he  followed  her  unresist¬ 
ingly. 

4  4  Sit  down  on  the  sofa,  and  we  will  talk  at 
our  ease.  I  will  keep  silence  about  this  mat¬ 
ter,  and  no  one  else  knows  a  word  about  it, 
if—” 

“Well?” 

“  If  you  will  give  me  half  the  money.” 

“But,”  said  Harold,  who  now  gave  up  the 
pretense  of  denial,  “  I  have  spent  part  of  it.” 

“  You  have  more  than  half  of  it  left  ?  ” 

“Yes.” 

4 4  Give  me  thirty  dollars,  and  I  will  be  con¬ 
tent.  I  saw  you  count  it.  There  were  sixty- 
five  dollars  in  all.” 

“I  don’t  see  what  claim  you  have  to  it,” 
said  Harold  angrily. 

“  I  have  as  much  as  you,”  answered  Felicie 
coolly.  4  c  Still,  if  you  prefer  to  go  to  your 
aunt,  own  up  that  you  took  it,  and  take 
the  consequences,  I  will  agree  not  to  interfere. 


268 


LUKE  WALTON. 


But  if  I  am  to  keep  the  secret  I  want  to  be 
paid  for  it.” 

Harold  thought  it  over  ;  he  hated  to  give  up 
so  large  a  part  of  his  plunder,  for  he  had 
appropriated  it  in  his  own  mind  to  certain  ar¬ 
ticles  which  he  wished  to  purchase. 

“.I’ll  give  you  twenty  dollars,”  he  said. 

“No,  I  will  take  thirty  dollars,  or  go  to 
your  aunt  and  tell  her  all  I  know.” 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Poor  Harold  took 
out  three  ten-dollar  bills,  reluctantly  enough, 
and  gave  them  to  Felicie. 

“All  right,  Master  Harold!  You’ve  done 
wisely.  I  thought  you  would  see  matters  in 
the  right  light.  Think  how  shocked  your 
mother  and  Aunt  Eliza  would  be  if  they  had 
discovered  that  you  were  the  thief.” 

“Don’t  use  such  language,  Felicie!”  said 
Harold,  wincing.  “There  is  no  need  to  refer 
to  it  again.” 

“As  you  say,  Master  Harold.  I  won’t  de¬ 
tain  you  any  longer  from  your  walk,”  and 
Felicie  with  a  smile  rose  from  the  sofa  and 
left  the  room,  Harold  following. 

“Don’t  disturb  yourself  any  more,”  she 


HAROLD  AND  FELICIE. 


269 


said,  as  she  opened  the  door  for  Harold. 
“  It  will  never  be  known.  Besides,  your  aunt 
can  well  afford  to  lose  this  little  sum.  She  is 
actually  rolling  in  wealth.  She  ought  to  be 
more  liberal  to  you.” 

“  So  she  ought,  Felicie.  If  she  had  this 
would  not  have  happened.” 

“  Very  true.  At  the  same  time  I  don’t  sup¬ 
pose  a  jury  would  accept  this  as  an  excuse.” 

“  Why  do  you  say  such  things,  Felicie? 
What  has  a  jury  got  to  do  with  me  ?  ” 

“  Nothing,  I  hope.  Still,  if  it  were  a  poor 
boy  that  had  taken  the  money,  Luke  Walton, 
for  instance,  he  might  have  been  arrested. 
Excuse  me,  I  see  this  annoys  you.  Let  me 
give  you  one  piece  of  advice,  Master  Harold.” 

‘  ‘  What  is  it  ?  ” 

“  Get  rid  of  that  morocco  pocketbook  as  soon 
as  you  can.  If  it  were  found  on  you,  or  you 
should  be  careless,  and  leave  it  anywhere,  you 
would  give  yourself  away,  my  friend.” 

“  You  are  right,  Felicie,”  said  Harold  hur¬ 
riedly.  “  Good-morning !  ” 

“  Good-morning,  and  a  pleasant  walk,  my 
friend,”  said  Felicie  mockingly. 


270 


LUKE  WALTON. 


When  Harold  was  fairly  out  in  the  street 
he  groaned  in  spirit.  He  had  lost  half  the 
fruits  of  his  theft,  and  his  secret  had  become 
known.  Felicie  had  proved  too  much  for  him, 
and  he  felt  that  he  hated  her. 

‘ 4 1  wish  I  could  get  mother  to  discharge  her 
without  her  knowing  that  it  was  I  who  had 
brought  it  about.  I  shall  not  feel  safe  as  long 
as  she  is  in  the  house.  I  shall  feel  uncom¬ 
fortable  whenever  I  see  her.  She  has  such  a 
way  of  looking  at  a  fellow.  She’s  a  sly,  art¬ 
ful,  dishonest  girl!”  burst  out  the  unhappy 
Harold.  “Why  didn’t  I  have  the  sense  to 
shut  and  lock  the  door  ?  Then  she  wouldn’t 
have  seen  me.” 

Then  the  thought  of  the  morocco  pocket- 
book  occurred  to  him.  He  felt  that  Felicie 
was  right — that  it  was  imprudent  to  carry  it 
around.  He  must  get  rid  of  it  in  some  way. 

He  took  the  money  out,  and  put  it  in  an¬ 
other  pocket.  The  pocket-book  he  replaced 
till  he  should  have  an  opportunity  of  dispos¬ 
ing  of  it. 

Hardly  had  he  made  these  preparations 
when  he  met  Luke  Walton,  who  had  started 


HAROLD  AND  FELICIE. 


271 


unusually  early,  and  was  walking  toward  the 
house.  An  idea  came  to  Harold. 

“  Good-morning,  Luke  !  ”  he  said,  in  an  un¬ 
usually  friendly  tone. 

“  Good-morning,  Harold!”  answered  Luke, 
agreeably  surprised  by  the  other’s  cordiality. 

“  Are  you  going  out  with  Aunfc  Eliza  this 
morning  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  am  not  sure  whether  she  will  want  to  go 
out.  I  shall  call  and  inquire.” 

“  You  seem  to  be  quite  a  favorite  of  hers.” 

4  ‘  I  hope  I  am.  She  always  treats  me  kindly.  ’  ’ 

‘  I  really  believe  she  thinks  more  of  you 
than  she  does  of  me.” 

“  You  mustn’t  think  that,”  said  Luke  mod¬ 
estly.  “  You  are  a  relation,  and  I  am  only  in 
her  employ.” 

“  Oh,  it  doesn’t  trouble  me.  I  am  bound  for 
the  city.  I  think  I  will  take  the  next  car — 
good-day !  ” 

u  Good-day,  Harold  !  ” 

Luke  walked  on,  quite  unconscious  that 
Harold,  as  he  passed  by  his  side,  had  managed 
to  slip  the  morocco  wallet  into  the  pocket  of 
his  sack-coat. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


Harold’s  plot  fails. 

LUKE  wore  a  sack-coat  with  side-pockets. 

It  was  this  circumstance  that  had  made  it 
easy  for  Harold  to  transfer  the  wallet  unsus¬ 
pected  to  his  pocket. 

Quite  ignorant  of  what  had  taken  place, 
Luke  kept  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Merton’s  house. 
He  rang  the  bell,  and  on  being  admitted  went 
up  as  usual  to  the  room  of  his  patroness. 

“  Good-morning,  Luke,”  said  Mrs.  Merton 
pleasantly. 

“  Good-morning  !  ”  responded  Luke. 

‘  ‘  I  don’ t  think  I  shall  go  out  this  morning, 
and  I  don’t  think  of  any  commission,  so  you 
will  have  a  vacation.” 

‘ ‘  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  earning  my  money, 
Mrs.  Merton.  You  make  it  very  easy  for  me.” 

‘  ‘  At  any  rate,  Luke,  the  money  is  cheer- 

272 


Harold’s  plot  fails. 


273 


fully  given,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you  find  it 
useful.  How  are  you  getting  along  ?  ” 

44  Very  well  indeed  !  I  have  just  made  the 
last  payment  on  mother’s  machine,  and  now  we 
owe  nothing,  except  perhaps  for  the  rent,  and 
only  a  week  has  gone  by  on  the  new  month.” 

“You  seem  to  be  a  good  manager,  Luke. 
You  succeed  in  keeping  your  money,  while  I 
have  not  always  found  it  easy.  Yesterday, 
for  instance,  I  lost  sixty-five  dollars.” 

4  4  How  was  that  ?  ’  ’  inquired  Luke  with  in¬ 
terest. 

4  4  The  drawer  in  which  I  keep  a  pocketbook 
was  unlocked,  and  this,  with  its  contents,  was 
stolen.” 

44  Don’t  you  suspect  any  one  \  ” 

44 1  did,  but  he  has  cleared  himself  in  my 
opinion.  It  is  possible  it  was  one  of  the  ser¬ 
vants.” 

At  this  moment  Luke  pulled  the  handker¬ 
chief  from  his  side-pocket,  and  with  it  came 
the  morocco  pocketbook,  which  fell  on  the 
carpet. 

Mrs.  Merton  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur¬ 
prise. 

18 


274 


LUKE  WALTON. 


4  4  Why,  that  is  the  very  pocketbook  !  ”  she 
said  quickly. 

Luke  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  with  an  ex¬ 
pression  of  bewilderment  on  his  face. 

44  I  don’ t understand  it,”  he  said.  “I  never 
saw  that  pocketbook  before  in  my  life.” 

44  Please  hand  it  to  me.” 

Luke  did  so. 

44  Yes,  that  is  the  identical  pocketbook,”  said 
the  old  lady. 

44  And  it  came  from  my  pocket  ?  ” 

4  4  Yes.” 

44  Is  there  any  money  in  it,  Mrs.  Merton  %  ” 

Mrs.  Merton  opened  it,  and  shook  her 
head. 

44  That  has  been  taken  out,”  she  answered. 

44 1  hope  you  wont  think  I  took  the  money,” 
said  Luke  with  a  troubled  look. 

4  4 1  know  you  did  not.  It  was  taken  while 
we  were  out  together  yesterday.  The  last 
thing  before  I  left  the  house  I  locked  the 
drawer,  and  the  pocketbook  with  the  money 
inside  was  there.  When  I  returned  it  was 
gone.” 

44  That  is  very  mysterious.  I  don’t  under- 


harolb’s  plot  fails. 


275 


stand  how  the  pocketbook  came  in  my 
pocket.” 

“  Some  one  must  have  put  it  there,  who 
wished  you  to  be  suspected  of  the  theft.” 

“  Yes,”  said  Luke  eagerly.  “I  see.” 

Then  he  stopped  suddenly,  for  what  he  was 
about  to  say  would  throw  suspicion  upon 
Harold. 

“  Well,  go  on  !  ” 

“  I  don’t  know  that  I  ought  to  speak.  It 
might  throw  suspicion  on  an  innocent  person.” 

“  Speak  !  It  is  due  to  me.  I  will  judge  on 
that  point.  Who  has  had  the  chance  of  put¬ 
ting  the  wallet  into  your  pocket  ?  ’  ’ 

“I  will  speak  if  you  insist  upon  it,  Mrs. 
Merton,”  said  Luke  reluctantly.  “A  few 
minutes  since  I  met  Harold  on  the  street.  We 
were  bound  in  opposite  directions.  He  sur¬ 
prised  me  by  stopping  me,  and  addressing  me 
quite  cordially.  We  stood  talking  together 
two  or  three  minutes.” 

“  Did  he  have  any  opportunity  of  putting 
the  wallet  in  your  pocket  ?  ’  ’ 

“  He  might  have  done  so,  but  I  was  not  con¬ 
scious  of  it.” 


276 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Let  me  think  !  ”  said  the  old  lady  slowly. 

“  Harold  knew  where  I  kept  my  money,  for  I 
opened  the  drawer  in  his  presence  the  other 
day,  and  he  saw  me  take  a  bill  from  the  pocket- 
book.  I  did  not  think  him  capable  of  rob¬ 
bing  me.” 

“  Perhaps  he  did  not,”  said  Luke.  “  It  may 
be  explained  in  some  other  way.” 

“  Can  you  think  of  any  other  way  %  ”  asked  ■ 
the  old  lady. 

“Suppose  a  servant  had  taken  the  money, 
and  left  the  pocketbook  somewhere  where 
Harold  found  it — ” 

“  Even  in  that  case,  why  should  he  put  it  in 
your  pocket  ?  ” 

‘  ‘  He  does  not  like  me.  He  might  wish  to 
throw  suspicion  upon  me.” 

“  That  would  be  very  mean.” 

“  I  think  it  would,  but  still  he  might  not  be 
a  thief.” 

u  I  would  sooner  excuse  a  thief.  It  is  cer¬ 
tainly  disreputable  to  steal,  but  it  is  not  neces¬ 
sarily  mean  or  contemptible.  Trying  to  throw 
suspicion  on  an  innocent  person  would  be 
both.” 


Harold's  plot  fails. 


277 


Luke  remained  silent,  for  nothing  occurred 
to  him  to  say.  He  did  not  wish  to  add  to  Mrs. 
Merton’s  resentment  against  Harold. 

After  a  moment’s  thought  the  old  lady  con¬ 
tinued  :  “  You  may  leave  the  pocketbook  with 
me,  and  say  nothing  about  what  has  happened 
till  I  give  you  leave.” 

“  Very  well.” 

Mrs.  Merton  took  the  pocketbook,  replaced 
it  in  the  drawer,  and  carefully  locked  it. 

“  Some  one  must  have  a  key  that  will  open 
this  drawer,”  she  said.  “  I  should  like  to  know 
who  it  is.” 

“  Do  you  think  any  one  will  open  it 
again  \  ”  asked  Luke. 

“No;  it  will  be  supposed  that  I  will  no 
longer  keep  money  there.  I  think,  however, 
I  shall  sooner  or  later  find  out  who  it  was  that 
opened  it.” 

“  I  hope  it  wont  prove  to  be  Harold.” 

“  I  hope  so,  too.  I  would  not  like  to  think 
so  near  a  relative  a  thief.  Well,  Luke,  I  wont 
detain  you  here  any  longer.  You  may  come 
to-morrow  as  usual.” 

“  It  is  lucky  Mrs.  Merton  has  confidence  in 


278 


LUKE  WALTON. 


me,”  thought  Luke.  44  Otherwise  she  might 
have  supposed  me  to  be  the  thief.  What  a 
mean  fellow  Harold  Tracy  is  to  try  to  have  an 
innocent  boy  suspected  of  such  a  crime.” 

As  he  was  going  out  of  the  front  door  Mrs. 
Tracy  entered. 

She  cast  a  withering  glance  at  Luke. 

“Have  you  seen  my  aunt  this  morning  %  ” 
she  asked. 

“Yes,  madam.” 

4  4 1  wonder  you  had  the  face  to  stand  in  her 
presence.” 

It  must  be  said  in  justification  of  Mrs.  Tracy 
that  she  really  believed  that  Luke  had  stolen 
Mrs.  Merton’s  money. 

44 1  know  of  no  reason  why  I  should  not,” 
said  Luke  calmly.  44  Will  you  be  kind  enough 
to  explain  what  you  mean  ?  ’  ’ 

44  You  know  well  enough,”  retorted  Mrs. 
Tracy,  nodding  her  head  venomously. 

44  Mrs.  Merton  appears  to  be  well  satisfied 
with  me,”  said  Luke  quietly.  44  When  she  is 
not  she  will  tell  me  so,  and  I  shall  never 
come  again.” 

44  You  are  the  most  brazen  boy  I  know  of. 


HAROLD’S  PLOT  FAILS. 


279 


Wliy  it  is  that  my  aunt  is  so  infatuated  with 
you  I  can’t  for  my  part  pretend  to  under¬ 
stand.” 

“If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  bid  you  good¬ 
morning,”  said  Luke  with  quiet  dignity. 

Mrs.  Tracy  did  not  reply,  and  Luke  left  the 
house. 

“  If  ever  I  hated  and  despised  a  boy,  it  is 
that  one !  ”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  to  herself,  as  she 
went  upstairs  to  remove  her  street  dress.  “I 
wish  I  could  strip  the  mask  from  him,  and  get 
aunt  to  see  him  in  his  real  character.  He  is 
a  sly,  artful  young  adventurer.  Ah,  Felicie, 
come  and  assist  me.  By  the  way,  I  want  you 
to  watch  that  boy  who  has  just  gone  out.” 

u  Luke  Walton  ?  ” 

“Yes;  of  course  you  have  heard  of  my 
aunt’s  loss.  I  suspect  that  this  Luke  Walton 
is  the  thief.” 

“Is  it  possible,  madame  ?  Have  you  any 
evidence?  ” 

“Ho,  but  we  may  find  some.  What  do  you 
think  ?  ’  ’ 

“  I  haven’t  thought  much  about  the  matter. 
It  seems  to  me  very  mysterious.” 


280 


LUKE  WALTON. 


When  Felicie  left  the  presence  of  her  mis^ 
tress  she  smiled  curiously. 

“  What  would  Madame  Tracy  say  if  she 
knew  it  was  her  own  son  ?  ’  ’  she  soliloquized. 
‘  ‘  He  is  a  young  cur,  but  she  thinks  him  an 
angel !  ” 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


HAROLD  MAKES  A  PURCHASE. 

HAROLD  had  been  compelled  to  give  up 
half  his  money,  but  he  still  had  thirty 
dollars  left.  How  should  he  invest  it  %  That 
was  the  problem  that  occupied  his  thoughts. 
Thus  far  he  had  not  derived  so  much  satisfac¬ 
tion  from  the  possession  of  the  money  as  he 
had  anticipated.  One  thing  at  any  rate  he  re¬ 
solved.  He  would  not  spend  it  upon  others, 
but  wholly  upon  himself. 

He  stepped  into  a  billiard  saloon  to  enjoy  his 
favorite  pastime.  In  the  absence  of  any  com¬ 
panion  he  played  a  game  with  a  man  employed 
in  the  establishment,  and  naturally  got  beaten, 
though  he  was  given  odds.  At  the  end  of  an 
hour  he  owed  sixty  cents,  and  decided  not  to 
continue. 

“  You  play  too  well  for  me,”  he  said  in  a 

tone  of  disappointment. 

281 


282 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  You  had  bad  luck,”  answered  his  oppo¬ 
nent  soothingly.  44 However,  lean  more  than 
make  it  up  to  you.” 

4 4  How  ?  ’  ’  inquired  Harold,  becoming  inter¬ 
ested. 

4  4  A  friend  of  mine  has  pawned  his  watch  for 
fifteen  dollars.  It  is  a  valuable  gold  watch — 
cost  seventy-five.  He  could  have  got  more  on 
it,  but  expected  to  redeem  it.  He  has  been  in 
bad  luck,  and  finds  it  is  no  use.  He  has  put 
the  ticket  in  my  hands,  and  is  willing  to  sell  it 
for  ten  dollars.  That  will  only  make  the  watch 
cost  twenty-five  dollars.  It's  a  big  bargain  for 
somebody.” 

Harold  was  much  interested.  He  had  al¬ 
ways  wanted  a  gold  watch,  and  had  dropped 
more  than  one  hint  to  that  effect  within  the 
hearing  of  Aunt  Eliza,  but  the  old  lady  had 
always  said  :  44  When  you  are  eighteen,  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  think  of  a  gold  watch.  Till 
then  your  silver  watch  will  do.” 

Harold  took  a  different  view  of  the  matter, 
and  his  desire  for  a  gold  watch  had  greatly  in¬ 
creased  since  a  school  friend  about  his  own  age 
had  become  the  owner  of  one.  For  this  reason 


HAROLD  MAKES  A  PURCHASE. 


283 


he  was  considerably  excited  by  the  chance  that 
seemed  to  present  itself. 

“  You  are  sure  the  watch  is  a  valuable  one  ?  ” 
he  asked. 

u  Yes  ;  I  have  seen  it  myself.” 

‘  ‘  Then  why  don’ t  you  buy  the  ticket  your¬ 
self  ?  ” 

“  I  haven’t  the  money.  If  I  had  I  wouldn’t 
let  anybody  else  have  it.” 

“  Let  me  see  the  ticket.” 

The  other  produced  it  from  his  vest-pocket, 
but  of  course  this  threw  no  light  upon  the 
quality  of  the  watch. 

“  I  can  secure  the  watch,  and  have  nearly  five 
dollars  left,”  thought  Harold.  “It  is  surely 
worth  double  the  price  it  will  cost  me,  and  then 
I  shall  have  something  to  show  for  my  money.” 

On  the  other  hand,  his  possession  of  the 
watch  would  excite  surprise  at  home,  and  he 
would  be  called  upon  to  explain  how  he  ob¬ 
tained  it.  This,  however,  did  not  trouble 
Harold  much.  He  was  sure  he  could  make  up 
some  story  that  would  avert  suspicion. 

“I’ve  a  great  mind  to  take  it,”  he  said 
slowly. 


284 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  You  can’t  do  any  better.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  hate  to  let  it  go,  but  I  don’t  see  any  prospect 
of  my  being  able  to  get  it  out  myself,  and  my 
friend  needs  the  money.” 

Harold  hesitated  a  moment,  then  yielded  to 

•» 

the  inducement  ottered. 

44  Give  me  the  ticket,”  he  said.  44  Here  is 
the  money.” 

As  he  spoke  he  produced  a  ten-dollar 
bill.  In  return  the  ticket  was  handed  to 
him. 

The  pawnbroker  whose  name  he  found  on 
the  ticket  was  located  less  than  fifteen  minutes’ 
walk  from  the  billiard  saloon.  Harold,  eager 
to  secure  the  watch,  went  directly  there.  Over 
the  doorway  were  displayed  the  customary 
three  golden  balls. 

Entering  with  some  nervousness,  for  he  had 
never  before  been  in  an  establishment  of  this 
kind,  Harold  advanced  to  the  counter,  behind 
which  he  saw  shelves  loaded  with  articles  in 
great  variety. 

44  Well,  young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  ” 
asked  a  small  man  with  wrinkled  face  and 
blinking  eyes. 


HAKOLD  MAKES  A  P17KCIIASE. 


285 


“  I  want  to  redeem  my  watch.  Here  is  the 
ticket.” 

The  old  man  glanced  at  the  ticket,  then 
went  to  a  safe,  and  took  out  the  watch.  Here 
were  kept  the  articles  of  small  bulk  and  large 
value. 

Harold  took  out  fifteen  dollars  which  he  had 
put  in  his  vest-pocket  for  the  purpose,  and  ten¬ 
dered  them  to  the  pawnbroker. 

“  I  want  a  dollar  and  a  half  more,”  said  the 
old  man. 

“  What  for  ?  ”  asked  Harold  in  surprise. 

“One  month’s  interest.  You  don’t  think  I 
do  business  for  nothing,  do  you?  ” 

“  Isn’t  that  high  ?  ”  asked  Harold,  and  not 
without  reason. 

“It’s  our  regular  charge,  young  man.  Ten 
percent,  a  month — that’s  what  we  all  charge.” 

This  statement  was  correct.  Though  the 
New  York  pawnbroker  is  allowed  to  charge 
but  three  per  cent,  a  month,  his  Chicago  asso¬ 
ciate  charges  more  than  three  times  as  much. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  comply  with 
the  terms  demanded,  and  Harold  reluctantly 
handed  out  the  extra  sum. 


286 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“You  ought  to  have  a  watch-chain,  my 
friend,  ”  said  the  pawnbroker. 

“I  should  like  one,  but  I  cannot  afford  it.” 

4  4 1  can  give  you  a  superior  article — rolled 
gold — for  a  dollar.  It  is  just  the  amount  I 
loaned  on  it,  but  I  have  had  it  for  over  a  year, 
and  the  owner  will  never  come  after  it.” 

4  4  Let  me  see  it !  ” 

The  chain  was  displayed.  It  looked  very 
well,  and  certainly  set  off  the  watch  to  better 
advantage. 

Harold  paid  down  the  dollar,  and  went  out 
of  the  pawnbroker’s  with  a  gold  watch,  and 
chain  of  the  same  color,  but  with  only  two  dol¬ 
lars  left  of  his  ill-gotten  money.  This  was 
somewhat  inconvenient,  but  he  rejoiced  in  the 
possession  of  the  watch  and  chain. 

44  Now  Ralph  Kennedy  can’t  crow  over  me,” 
he  soliloquized.  4 4  I’ve  got  a  gold  watch  as 
well  as  he.” 

As  he  left  the  pawnbroker’s  he  did  not  ob¬ 
serve  a  familiar  face  and  figure  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  It  was  Warner  Powell,  his 
mother’s  brother,  who  recognized  with  no  little 
surprise  his  nephew  coming  from  such  a  place. 


HAROLD  MAKES  A  PURCHASE. 


287 


“  What  on  earth  carried  Harold  to  a  pawn¬ 
broker’s  ?  ”  he  asked  himself. 

Then  he  caught  sight  of  the  watch-chain,  and 
got  a  view  of  the  watch,  as  Harold  drew  it  out 
ostentatiously  to  view  his  new  acquisition. 

“  There’s  some  mystery  here,”  he  said  to 
himself.  “  I  must  investigate.” 

He  waited  till  Harold  was  at  a  safe  distance, 
then  crossed  the  street,  and  entered  the  pawn¬ 
broker’s. 

“  There  was  a  boy  just  went  out  of  here,”  he 
said  to  the  old  man. 

“  Suppose  there  was,”  returned  the  pawn¬ 
broker  suspiciously. 

“  What  was  he  doing  here?  ” 

“  Is  it  any  of  your  business  ?  ” 

“  My  friend,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you, 
and  no  complaint  to  make  against  you,  but  the 
boy  is  my  nephew,  and  I  want  to  know  whether 
he  got  a  watch  and  chain  here.” 

u  Yes  ;  he  presented  a  ticket,  and  I  gave 
him  the  watch.” 

“ Is  it  one  he  pawned  himself?  ” 

“  I  don’t  know.  He  had  the  ticket.  I  can’t 
remember  everybody  that  deals  with  me.” 


288 


LUKE  WALTON. 


1  4  Can  you  tell  me  how  much  the  watch  and 
chain  was  pawned  for  ?  ” 

44  The  watch  was  pawned  for  fifteen  dollars. 
1  sold  him  the  chain  for  a  dollar.” 

“  All  right !  Thank  you.” 

44  It’ s  all  right  ?  ” 

“Yes,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  How 

* 

long  had  the  watch  been  in  ?  ” 

“For  three  weeks.” 

“  Thank  you.” 

Warner  Powell  left  the  shop,  after  obtaining 
all  the  information  he  required. 

“It  is  Harold  who  robbed  Aunt  Eliza,”  he 
said  to  himself.  4  4  He  has  done  a  very  impru¬ 
dent  thing  in  securing  this  watch.  I  woader 
what  explanation  he  will  have  to  give,  when 
asked  about  it  at  home.  I  begin  to  think  my 
precious  nephew  is  a  rogue.” 

Meanwhile  Harold,  eager  to  ascertain  the 
value  of  his  watch,  stepped  into  a  jeweler’s. 

44  Can  you  tell  me  the  value  of  this  watch  ?” 
he  inquired. 

The  jeweler  opened  it,  and  after  a  brief  ex¬ 
amination  said  :  44  When  new  it  probably  cost 
thirty-five  dollars.” 


HAROLD  MAKES  A  PURCHASE. 


289 


Harold’s  countenance  fell. 

“I  was  told  that  it  was  a  seventy-five  dollar 
watch,”  he  said. 

“  Then  you  were  cheated.” 

“  But  how  can  such  a  large  watch  be  afforded 
for  thirty-five  dollars  \  ” 

“It  is  low-graded  gold,  not  over  ten  carats, 
and  the  works  are  cheap.  Still,  it  will  keep 
fair  time.” 

Harold  was  very  much  disappointed.  He 
had  not  made  much  of  a  bargain  after  all. 


> 

l 

» 

4 


i 


10 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  SKILLFUL  INVENTION. 

HEN  he  came  to  think  it  over,  Harold 


V  V  gradually  recovered  his  complacence. 
It  was  a  gold  watch  after  all,  and  no  one  would 
know  that  the  gold  was  low  grade.  He  met 
one  or  two  acquaintances  who  immediately 
took  notice  of  the  watch-chain  and  asked  to 
see  the  watch.  They  complimented  him  on  it, 
and  this  gave  him  satisfaction. 

When  he  reached  home,  he  went  directly  up¬ 
stairs  to  his  room,  and  only  came  down  when 
he  heard  the  supper-bell. 

As  he  entered  the  dining-room  his  mother 
was  the  first  to  notice  the  watch-chain. 

“  Have  you  been  buying  a  watch-chain,  Har¬ 
old  ?  ”  she  asked. 

“  I  have  something  besides,”  said  Harold, 
and  he  produced  the  watch. 

Mrs.  Tracy  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur- 


290 


A  SKILLFUL  INVENTION. 


291 


prise.  And  Mrs.  Merton  and  Warner  ex- 
changed  significant  glances. 

“  How  came  yon  by  the  watch  and  chain  ?  ” 
asked  Mrs.  Tracy  uneasily. 

“They  were  given  to  me,”  answered  Har¬ 
old. 

“  But  that  is  very  strange.  Aunt  Eliza,  you 
have  not  given  Harold  a  watch,  have  you  ?  ’  ’ 

“No,  Louisa.  I  think  a  silver  watch  is 
good  enough  for  a  boy  of  his  age.” 

“Why  don’t  you  ask  me,  Louisa?”  said 
Warner,  smiling. 

“I  don’t  imagine  your  circumstances  will 
admit  of  such  a  gift.” 

“  You  are  right.  I  wish  they  did.  Harold, 
we  are  all  anxious  to  know  the  name  of  the 
benevolent  individual  who  has  made  you  such 
a  handsome  present.  If  you  think  he  has  any 
more  to  spare  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would 
introduce  me.” 

“I  will  explain,”  said  Harold  glibly.  “I 
was  walking  along  Dearborn  Street  about  two 
o’clock  when  I  saw  a  gentleman  a  little  in  ad¬ 
vance  of  me.  He  had  come  from  the  Commer¬ 
cial  Bank, I  judge,  for  it  was  not  far  from  there 


292 


LUKE  WALTON. 


I  came  across  him.  By  some  carelessness  he 

twitched  a  wallet  stuffed  with  notes  from  his 

pocket.  A  rough-looking  fellow  sprang  to  get 

it,  but  I  was  too  quick  for  him.  I  picked  it 

up,  and  hurrying  forward  handed  it  to  the 

gentleman.  He  seemed  surprised  and  pleased . 

% 

“  ‘  My  boy,’  he  said,  ‘  you  have  done  me  a 
great  service.  That  wallet  contained  fifteen 
hundred  dollars.  I  should  have  lost  it  but  for 
you.  Accej)t  this  watch  and  chain  as  a  mark 
of  my  gratitude.’ 

“With  that  he  took  the  watch  from  his 
pocket,  and  handed  it  to  me.  I  was  not  sure 
whether  I  ought  to  take  it,  but  I  have  long 
wanted  a  gold  watch,  and  he  seemed  well  able 
to  afford  the  gift,  so  I  took  it.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  never  thought  of  doubting  this 
plausible  story. 

“Harold,”  she  said,  “I  am  proud  of  you. 
I  think  there  was  no  objection  to  accepting 
the  watch.  What  do  you  say,  Aunt  Eliza?” 

“Let  me  look  at  the  watch,  Harold,”  said 
the  old  lady,  not  replying  to  her  niece’s  ques¬ 
tion. 

Harold  passed  it  over  complacently.  He 


A  SKILLFUL  INVENTION.  293 

I  v 

rather  plumed  himself  on  the  ingenious  story 
he  had  invented. 

“What  do  you  think  of  it,  Warner?” 
asked  Mrs.  Merton,  passing  it  to  her  nephew. 

“  It  is  rather  a  cheap  watch  for  a  rich  man 
to  carry,”  answered  Warner,  taking  it  in  his 
hand  and  opening  it. 

“I  am  sure  it  is  quite  a  handsome  watch,” 
said  Mrs.  Tracy. 

“Yes,  it  is  large  and  showy,  but  it  is  low- 
grade  gold.” 

“Of  course  I  don’t  know  anything  about 
that,”  said  Harold.  “At  any  rate  it  is  gold, 
and  good  enough  for  me.” 

“  No  doubt  of  that,”  said  the  old  lady  dryly. 

“Rich  men  don’t  always  carry  expensive 
watches,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy.  “They  are  often 
plain  in  their  tastes.” 

“This  watch  is  rather  showy,”  said  Warner. 
“It  can’t  be  called  plain.” 

“At  any  rate  Harold  has  reason  to  be  satis¬ 
fied.  I  am  glad  he  obtained  the  watch  in  so 
creditable  a  manner.  If  it  had  been  your  pro- 
tege,  Aunt  Eliza,  I  suspect  he  would  have 
kept  the  money.” 


294 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  I  don’t  think  so,  Louisa,”  said  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton  quietly.  “I  have  perfect  confidence  in 
Luke’s  honesty.” 

“  In  spite  of  your  lost  pocketbook  ?  ” 

“Yes;  there  is  nothing  to  connect  Luke 
with  that.” 

Harold  thought  he  ought  to  get  the  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  trick  played  upon  Luke  in  the 
morning. 

“  I  don’t  know  as  I  ought  to  say  anything,” 
he  said,  hesitating,  “  but  I  met  Luke  this  morn¬ 
ing,  and,  if  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  I 
saw  in  his  pocket  a  wallet  that  looked  very 
much  like  aunt’s.  You  know  he  wears  a  sack 
coat,  and  has  a  pocket  on  each  side.” 

Again  Mrs.  Merton  and  Warner  exchanged 
glances. 

“  This  is  important,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  in  ex¬ 
citement.  “  Hid  you  speak  to  him  on  the  sub¬ 
ject,  Harold?” 

“  YoY 

“Why  not?” 

“I  thought  he  might  be  innocent,  and  I 
didn’t  want  to  bring  a  false  charge  against 
him.” 


A  SKILLFUL  INVENTION. 


295 


“You  were  very  considerate, ”  said  Mrs* 
Merton.  x 

It  was  impossible  to  infer  anything  from  her 
tone. 

“That  seems  quite  conclusive,  Aunt  Eliza,” 
said  Mrs.  Tracy  triumphantly.  ‘  ‘  I  am  sure 
Warner  will  agree  with  me.” 

“As  to  that,  Louisa,”  said  her  brother, 
“  Harold  is  not  certain  it  was  aunt’s  lost  pock- 
etbook.” 

“Buthe  thinks  it  is.” 

“  Yes,  I  think  it  was — ” 

“  For  my  own  part  I  have  no  doubt  on  the 
subject,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  in  a  positive  tone. 
“He  is  the  person  most  likely  to  take  the 
money,  and  this  makes  less  proof  needful.” 

“But  suppose,  after  all,  he  is  innocent,” 
suggested  Warner. 

“You  seem  to  take  the  boy’s  side,  Warner. 
I  am  surprised  at  you.” 

“  I  want  him  to  have  a  fair  chance,  that  is 
all.  I  must  say  that  I  have  been  favorably  im¬ 
pressed  by  what  I  have  seen  of  the  boy.” 

“At  any  rate  I  think  Aunt  Eliza  ought  to 
question  him  sternly,  not  accepting  any  eva- 


296 


LUKE  WALTON. 


sion  or  equivocation.  He  has  been  guilty  of 
base  ingratitude.” 

“  Supposing  him  to  be  guilty  ?  ” 

“  Yes,  of  course.” 

u  I  intend  to  investigate  the  matter,”  said 
the  old  lady.  “  What, do  you  think,  Harold? 
Ho  you  think  it  probable  that  Luke  opened  my 
drawer,  and  took  out  the  pocketbook?  ” 

“  It  looks  very  much  like  it,”  said  Harold. 

u  Certainly  it  does,”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  with 
emphasis. 

“  Suppose  we  drop  the  conversation  for  the 
time  being,”  suggested  the  old  lady.  “  Harold 
has  not  wholly  gratified  our  curiosity  as  to  the 
watch  and  chain.  Ho  you  know,  Harold,  who 
the  gentleman  is  to  whom  you  rendered  such 
an  important  service  ?” 

“ISTo,  Aunt  Eliza,  I  did  not  learn  his  name.” 

4  ‘  What  was  his  appearance  ?  Can  you  de¬ 
scribe  him  %  ’  ’ 

“  He  was  a  tall  man,”  answered  Harold  in  a 
tone  of  hesitation. 

“  Was  he  an  old  m^n  or  a  young  man  ?  ” 

“  He  was  an  old  man  with  gray  hair.  He 
walked  very  erect.” 


\ 


A  SKILLFUL  INVENTION.  297 

“  Should  you  know  him  again  if  you  saw 
him  ?  ” 

“  Yes,  I  think  so.” 

“  Then  perhaps  we  may  have  an  opportunity 
of  ascertaining  who  he  was.  My  broker  will 
probably  know  him  from  your  description.” 

“  Why  do  you  want  to  find  out  wrlio  he  is  ?  ” 
asked  Harold  uneasily.  “  Don’t  you  think  I 
ought  to  keep  the  watch  \  ’  ’ 

“  I  have  a  little  feeling  of  curiosity  on  the 
subject.  As  to  keeping  it,  I  don’t  think  the 
gentleman  will  be  likely  to  reclaim  it.” 

i 

“Of  course  not.  Why  should  he?”  said 
Mrs.  Tracy.  “  He  gave  it  freely,  and  it  would 
be  very  strange  if  he  wished  it  back.” 

Here  the  conversation  dropped,  much  to 
Harold's  relief.  Warner  accompanied  his  aunt 
from  the  room. 

“  What  do  you  think  of  Harold’s  story, 
W arner  ?  ’  ’  asked  the  old  lady. 

“  It  is  very  ingenious.” 

“  But  not  true  ?  ” 

“No;  he  got  the  watch  and  chain  from  a 
pawnbroker.  I  saw  him  come  out  of  the  shop, 
and,  going  in,  questioned  the  pawnbroker.  He 


298 


LUKE  WALTON. 


must  have  got  possession  of  the  ticket  some¬ 
where.” 

“Then  it  seems  that  Harold  is  not  only  a 
thief  but  a  liar.” 

“  My  dear  aunt,  let  us  not  be  too  hard  upon 
him.  This  is  probably  his  first  offense.  I  feel 
like  being  charitable,  for  I  have  been  in  the 
same  scrape.” 

“  I  can  overlook  theft  more  easily  than  his 
attempt  to  blacken  the  reputation  of  Luke,” 
said  Mrs.  Merton  sternly. 


r 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


WARNER  POWELL  STARTS  ON  A  JOURNEY. 

THANKS  to  the  liberal  compensation  re¬ 
ceived  from  Mrs.  Merton,  Luke  was  en¬ 
abled  to  supply  his  mother  and  Bennie  with 
all  the  comforts  they  required,  and  even  to  put 
by  two  dollars  a  week.  This  he  did  as  a  meas¬ 
ure  of  precaution,  for  he  did  not  know  how 
long  the  engagement  at  the  house  on  Prairie 
Avenue  would  last.  If  he  were  forced  to  fall 
back  on  his  earnings  as  a  newsboy,  the  family 
would  fare  badly.  This  might  happen,  for  he 
found  himself  no  nearer  securing  the  favor  of 
Harold  and  his  mother.  The  manner  of  the 
latter  was  particularly  unpleasant  when  they 
met,  and  Harold  scarcely  deigned  to  speak  to 
him.  On  the  other  hand,  Warner  Powell 
showed  himself  very  friendly.  He  often  took 
the  opportunity  to  join  Luke  when  he  was 
leaving  the  house,  and  chat  pleasantly  with 

299 


300 


LUKE  WALTON. 


him.  Luke  enjoyed  his  companionship  be¬ 
cause  Warner  was  able  to  tell  him  about  Aus¬ 
tralia  and  California,  with  both  of  which  coun- 
tries  Mrs.  Tracy's  brother  was  familiar. 

‘‘Mother/’  said  Harold  one  day,  “Uncle 
Warner  seems  very  thick  with  that  newsboy. 
I  have  several  times  seen  them  walking  to¬ 
gether.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  frowned,  for  the  news  displeased 
her. 

“I  am  certainly  very  much  surprised.  I 
should  think  my  brother  might  find  a  more 
congenial  and  suitable  companion  than 
Aunt  Eliza’s  hired  boy.  I  will  speak  to  him 
about  it.” 

She  accordingly  broached  the  subject  to 
Warner  Powell,  expressing  herself  with  em¬ 
phasis. 

“  Listen,  Louisa,”  said  Warner,  “don’t  you 
think  I  am  old  enough  to  choose  my  own  com¬ 
pany  ?” 

“It  doesn’t  seem  so,”  retorted  Mrs.  Tracy 
with  a  smile. 

“At  any  rate  I  don’t  need  any  instructions 
on  that  point.” 


WARNER  STARTS  ON  A  JOURNEY.  301 


“  As  my  guest,  you  certainly  ought  to  treat 
me  with  respect.” 

“  So  I  do,  but  I  don’t  feel  bound  to  let  you 
regulate  my  conduct.” 

“You  know  what  cause  I  have — we  both 
have — to  dislike  this  boy.” 

“  I  don’t  dislike  him.” 

“  Then  you  ought  to.” 

“He  is  in  Aunt  Eliza’s  employment.  While 
he  remains  so,  I  shall  treat  him  with  cor¬ 
diality.” 

“You  are  blind  as  a  mole  !  ”  said  Mrs.  Tracy 
passionately.  “  You  can’t  see  that  he  is  try¬ 
ing  to  work  his  way  into  aunt’s  affections.” 

4 1 1  think  he  has  done  so  already.  She 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  him.” 

“When  you  find  her  remembering  him  in 
her  will  you  may  come  over  to  my  opinion.” 

“  She  is  quite  at  liberty  to  remember  him  in 
her  will  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  There  will 
be  enough  for  us,  even  if  she  does  leave  Luke  a 
legacy.  ’  ’ 

“I  see  you  are  incorrigible.  I  am  sorry  I 
invited  you  to  remain  in  my  house.’  ’ 

“I  was  under  the  impression  that  it  was 


302 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Aunt  Eliza’s  house.  You  are  claiming  too 
much,  Louisa.” 

Mrs.  Tracy  bit  her  lip,  and  was  compelled  to 
give  up  her  attempt  to  secure  her  brother’s 
allegiance.  She  contented  herself  with  treat¬ 
ing  him  with  formal’  j)oliteness,  abstaining 
from  all  show  of  cordiality.  This  was  carried 
so  far  that  it  attracted  the  attention  of  Mrs. 
Merton. 

“What  is  the  trouble  between  you  and 
Louisa  ?  ’  ’  she  asked  one  day. 

Warner  laughed. 

“  She  thinks  I  am  too  intimate  with  your 
boy,  Luke.” 

“I  don’t  understand.” 

“  I  often  walk  with  Luke  either  on  his  way 
to  or  from  the  house.  Harold  has  reported 
this  to  his  mother,  and  the  result  is  a  lecture 
as  to  the  choice  of  proper  companions  from 
my  dignified  sister.” 

Mrs.  Merton  smiled  kindly  on  her  nephew. 

“  Then  you  don’t  propose  to  give  up  Luke?” 
she  said. 

“  Yo  ;  I  like  the  boy.  He  is  worth  a  dozen 
Harolds.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say  this,  for 


WARNER  STARTS  ON  A  JOURNEY.  303 


Harold  is  my  nephew,  and  they  say  blood  is 
thicker  than  water.  However,  it  is  a  fact 
nevertheless  that  I  like  Luke  the  better  of 
the  two.” 

“I  shall  not  blame  yon  for  saying  that, 
Warner,”  returned  the  old  lady.  44  I  am  glad 
that  one  of  the  family,  at  least,  is  free  from 
prejudice.  To  what  do  you  attribute  Louisa’s 
dislike  of  Luke  ?  ” 

“I  think,  Aunt,  you  are  shrewd  enough 
to  guess  the  reason  without  appealing  to 
me.” 

44  Still,  I  should  like  to  hear  it  from  your 
lips.” 

4  4  In  plain  words,  then,  Louisa  is  afraid  you 
will  remember  Luke  in  your  will.” 

4  4  She  doesn’ t  think  I  would  leave  everything 
to  him,  does  she  ?” 

44  She  objects  to  your  leaving  anything.  If 
it  were  only  five  hundred  dollars  she  would 
grudge  it.” 

44  Louisa  was  always  selfish,”  said  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton  quietly.  4  4 1  have  always  known  that. 
She  is  not  wise,  however.  She  does  not  under¬ 
stand  that  I  am  a  very  obstinate  old  woman, 


304 


LUKE  WALTON. 


and  am  the  more  likely  to  take  my  own  way 
if  opposed.” 

“ That’s  right,  Aunt!  You  are  entitled  to 
have  your  own  way,  and  I  for  one  am  the  last 
to  wish  to  interfere  with  you.” 

“  You  will  not  fare  any  the  worse  for  that ! 
And  now,  Warner,  tell  me  what  are  your 
chances  of  employment?” 

“  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  about  that,  Aunt. 
There  is  a  gentleman  in  Milwaukee  who  has  a 
branch  office  in  Chicago,  and  I  understand  that 
he  wants  some  one  to  represent  him  here.  His 
present  agent  is  about  to  resign  his  position, 
and  I  think  I  have  some  chance  of  obtaining 
the  place.  It  will  be  necessary  for  me,  how¬ 
ever,  to  go  to  Milwaukee  to  see  him  in  person.” 

“Go  then,  by  all  means,”  said  Mrs.  Merton. 
“  I  will  defray  your  expenses.” 

“  Thank  you  very  much,  Aunt.  You  know 
that  I  have  little  money  of  my  own.  But  there 
is  another  thing  indispensable,  and  that  I  am 
afraid  you  would  not  be  willing  to  do  for  me.” 

“  What  is  it,  Warner  ?  ” 

‘  ‘  I  shall  have  charge  of  considerable  money 
belonging  to  my  employer,  and  I  learn  from 


WARNER  STARTS  ON  A  JOURNEY.  305 


the  present  agent  that  I  shall  have  to  get  some 
one  to  give  bonds  for  me  in  the  sum  of  ten 
thousand  dollars.’' 

“  Very  well!  Iam  willing  to  stand  your 
security.” 

Warner  looked  surprised  and  gratified. 

“  Knowing  how  dishonestly  I  have  acted  in 
the  past  ?  ”  he  said. 

“  The  past  is  past.  You  are  a  different  man, 
I  hope  and  believe.” 

“  Aunt  Eliza,  you  shall  never  regret  the  gen¬ 
erous  confidence  you  are  willing  to  repose  in 
me.  It  is  likely  to  open  for  me  a  new  career, 
and  to  make  a  new  man  of  me.” 

‘ 4  That’ s  my  desire,  W arner.  Let  me  add 
that  I  am  only  following  your  own  example. 
You  have  refused  to  believe  evil  of  Luke,  un¬ 
like  your  sister,  and  have  not  been  troubled  by 
the  kindness  I  have  shown  him.  This  is  some¬ 
thing  I  remember  to  your  credit.” 

“Thank  you,  Aunt.  If  you  have  been  able 
to  discover  anything  creditable  in  me,  I  am  all 
the  more  pleased.” 

‘  ‘  How  much  will  this  position  pay  you,  sup¬ 
posing  you  get  it  1  ” 

20 


306 


LUKE  WALTON. 


\ 


“  Two  thousand  dollars  a  year.  To  me  that 
will  be  a  competence.  I  shall  be  able  to  save 
one-half,  for  I  have  given  up  my  former  ex¬ 
pensive  tastes,  and  am  eager  to  settle  down  to 
a  steady  and  methodical  business  life.” 

4 4  When  do  you  want  to  go  to  Milwaukee, 
Warner  %  ” 

44  I  should  like  to  go  at  once.” 

4  4  Here  is  some  money  to  defray  your  ex¬ 
penses.” 

Mrs.  Merton  opened  her  table  drawer,  and 
took  out  a  roll  of  bills  amounting  to  fifty 
dollars. 

4  4 1  wish  you  good  luck  !  ’ 5  she  said. 

4  4  Thank  you,  Aunt  !  I  shall  take  the  after¬ 
noon  train  to  Milwaukee,  and  sleep  there  to¬ 
night.” 

Warner  Powell  hastened  to  catch  the  train, 
and  at  six  o’clock  in  the  evening  landed  with 
a  large  number  of  fellow-passengers  in  the 
metropolis  of  Wisconsin. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THOMAS  BROWNIES  SECRET. 


WARNER  POWELL  had  learned  wisdom 
and  prudence  with  his  increasing  years, 
and,  instead  of  inquiring  for  the  best  hotel, 
was  content  to  put  up  at  a  humbler  hostelry, 
where  he  would  be  comfortable.  He  made  the 
acquaintance  on  the  cars  of  a  New  York  drum¬ 
mer,  with  whom  he  became  quite  sociable. 

“I  suppose  you  have  been  in  Milwaukee 
often,”  said  Warner. 

“  I  go  there  once  a  year — sometimes  twice.” 
“  Where  do  you  stay  ?  ” 

“  At  the  Prairie  Hotel.  It  is  a  comfortable 
house — two  dollars  a  day.” 

“Just  what  I  want.  I  will  go  there.” 

So  at  quarter-past  six  W arner  Powell  found 
himself  in  the  office  of  the  hotel.  He  was  as¬ 
signed  a  room  on  the  third  floor. 

After  making  his  toilet  he  went  down  to  sup- 

307 


308 


LUKE  WALTON. 


per.  At  the  table  with  him  were  two  gentle¬ 
men  who,  from  their  conversation,  appeared  to 
be  residents  of  the  city.  They  were  discussing 
the  coming  municipal  election. 

u  I  tell  you  Browning  will  be  our  mayor,  ” 
said  one.  “  His  reputation  as  a  philanthropist 
will  elect  him.” 

“I  never  took  much  stock  in  his  claims  on 
that  score.” 

u  He  belongs  to  all  the  charitable  societies, 
and  is  generally  an  officer.” 

“  That  may  be  ;  but  how  much  does  he  give 
himself  ?  ’  ’ 

“I  don’t  know.  I  suppose  he  is  a  liberal 
subscriber.” 

“  He  wants  to  give  that  impression,  but  the 
man  is  as  selfish  as  the  average.  He  is  said  to 
be  a  hard  landlord,  and  his  tenants  get  very 
few  favors.” 

“  I  am  surprised  to  hear  that.” 

“  He  is  trading  on  his  philanthropy.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  learn  where  his  wealth 
came  from.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  he 
were  more  smart  than  honest.” 

Warner  Powell  found  himself  getting  inter- 


THOMAS  BROWNING’S  SECRET.  309 

ested  in  this  Browning.  Was  he  really  a  good 
man,  who  was  unjustly  criticised,  or  was  he  a 
sham  philanthropist,  as  charged  ? 

“  After  all,  it  doesn’t  concern  me,”  he  said 
to  himself.  “  The  good  people  of  Milwaukee 
may  choose  whom  they  please  for  mayor  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned.” 

After  supper  Warner  stepped  up  to  the  cigar 
stand  to  buy  a  cigar.  This,  as  the  reader  will 
remember,  was  kept  by  Jack  King,  an  old  Cali¬ 
fornia  acquaintance  of  Thomas  Browning, 
whose  first  appearance  in  our  story  was  in  the 
character  of  a  tramp  and  would-be  burglar. 

“  Is  business  good  \  ”  asked  Warner  pleas¬ 
antly. 

“  It  is  fair  ;  but  it  seems  slow  to  a  man  like 
myself,  who  has  made  a  hundred  dollars  a  day 
at  the  mines  in  California.” 

“I  have  been  in  California  myself,”  said 
Powell,  “but  it  was  recently,  and  no  such 
sums  were  to  be  made  in  my  time.” 

i 4  That  is  true.  It  didn’t  last  with  me.  I 
have  noticed  that  even  in  the  flush  times  few 
brought  much  money  away  with  them,  no  mat¬ 
ter  how  lucky  they  were.” 


310 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  There  must  be  some  exceptions,  however.” 

“  There  were.  We  have  a  notable  example 
in  Milwaukee.” 

4 4  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?  ’ ’ 

44  To  Thomas  Browning,  the  man  who  is  up 
for  mayor.” 

Jack  King  laughed. 

44  They  call  him  so,”  he  answered. 

44 1  am  afraid  you  are  jealous  of  that  good 
man,”  said  Warner,  smiling. 

44 1  may  be  jealous  of  his  success,  but  not  of 
his  reputation  or  his  moral  qualities.” 

44  Then  you  don’t  admire  him  as  much  as  the 
public  generally.” 

44 No,  I  know  him  too  well.” 

44  He  is  really  rich,  is  he  not?  ” 

44  Yes;  that  is,  he  is  worth  perhaps  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars.” 

4 4  That  would  satisfy  me.” 

44  Or  me.  But  I  doubt  whether  the  money 
was  creditably  gained.” 

44  Do  you  know  anything  about  it?  Were 
you  an  acquaintance  of  his  ?  ” 

44  Yes;  I  can  remember  him  when  he  was 
only  a  rough  miner.  I  never  heard  that  he 


THOMAS  BROWNING’S  SECRET. 


311 


was  very  lucky,  but  he  managed  to  take  con¬ 
siderable  money  East  with  him.” 

Warner  eyed  Jack  King  attentively. 

“  You  suspect  something,”  he  said  shrewdly. 

“I  do.  There  was  one  of  our  acquaintances 
who  had  struck  it  rich,  and  accumulated  about 
ten  thousand  dollars.  Browning  was  thick 
with  him,  and  I  always  suspected  that  wdien 
he  found  himself  on  his  death-bed  he  in¬ 
trusted  all  his  savings  to  Butler.” 

4  4 1  thought  you  were  speaking  of  Browning.  ’  ’ 

“His  name  was  Butler  then.  He  has 
changed  it  since.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  think 
he  intrusted  his  money  to  Browning  to  take 
home  to  his  family.” 

“Well?” 

“The  question  is,  did  Browning  fulfill  his 
trust,  or  keep  the  money  himself?  ” 

“  That  would  come  out,  wouldn’t  it?  The 
family  would  make  inquiries.” 

“  They  did  not  know  that  the  dying  man 
had  money.  He  kept  it  to  himself,  for  he 
wanted  to  go  home  and  give  them  an  agreeable 
surprise.  Butler  knew  this,  and  I  think  he 
took  advantage  of  it.” 


312 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  That  was  contemptible.  But  can’t  it  be 
ascertained?  Is  it  known  where  the  family 
live  ?  What  is  the  name  ?  ” 

“Walton.” 

“  Walton  !  ”  repeated  Warner  Powell,  in 
surprise. 

“Yes;  do  you  know  any  family  of  that 
name  ?  ” 

“I  know  a  boy  in  Chicago  named  Luke 
Walton.  He  is  in  the  employ  of  my  aunt.  A 
part  of  his  time  he  spends  in  selling  papers.” 

“Mr.  Browning  told  me  that  Walton  only 
left  a  daughter,  and  that  the  family  had  gone 
'  to  the  Eastern  States.” 

“  Would  he  be  likely  to  tell  you  the  truth — 
supposing  he  had  really  kept  the  money  ?  ’  ’ 

‘ 4  Perhaps  not.  What  more  can  you  tell  me 
about  this  boy  ?  ” 

Powell’s  face  lighted  up. 

“  I  remember  now  he  told  me  that  his  father 
died  in  California.” 

“  Is  it  possible  ?  ”  said  Jack  King,  excited. 
“  I  begin  to  think  I  am  on  the  right  track.  I 
begin  to  think,  too,  that  I  can  tell  where  Tom 
Butler  got  his  first  start.” 


THOMAS  BROWNING’S  SECRET.  313 

“And  now  he  poses  as  a  philanthro¬ 
pist?” 

“  Yes.” 

“  And  is  nominated  for  mayor  ?  ” 

“Yes  also.” 

“  How  are  your  relations  with  him  ?  ” 

“  They  should  be  friendly,  for  he  and  I  were 
comrades  in  earlier  days,  and  once  I  lent  him 
money  when  he  needed  it,  but  he  has  been 
puffed  up  by  his  prosperity,  and  takes  very 
little  notice  of  me.  He  had  to  do  something 
for  me  when  I  first  came  to  Milwaukee,  but  it 
was  because  he  was  afraid  not  to.” 

Meanwhile  Warner  Powell  was  searching  his 
memory.  Where  and  how  had  he  become 
familiar  with  the  name  of  Thomas  Browning  ? 
At  last  it  came  to  him. 

‘ 4  Eureka  !  ”  he  exclaimed,  in  excitement. 

4  ‘  What  does  that  mean  ?  I  don’ t  understand 
French.” 

Warner  smiled. 

“It  isn’t  French,”  he  said,  “but  Greek, 
all  the  Greek  I  know.  It  means  I  have  dis¬ 
covered — the  mystery  of  your  old  acquaint- 


ance. 


314 


LUKE  WALTON. 


44  Explain,  please  !  ”  said  Jack  King,  his  in¬ 
terest  becoming  intense. 

“I  have  a  friend  in  Chicago  —  Stephen 
Webb,  a  nephew  of  your  philanthropist — 
who  has  been  commissioned  by  his  uncle  to 
find  out  all  he  can  about  this  newsboy,  Luke 
Walton.  He  was  speculating  with  me  why 
his  uncle  should  be  so  interested  in  an  obscure 
boy.” 

4  4  Had  his  uncle  told  him  nothing  ?  ’  ’ 

“No,  except  that  he  dropped  a  hint  about 
knowing  Luke’s  father.” 

4  4  This  Luke  and  his  family  are  poor,  you 
say?*” 

44  Yes,  you  can  judge  that  from  his  employ¬ 
ment.  He  is  an  honest,  manly  boy,  however, 
and  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  him.  I  hope  it  will 
turn  out  as  you  say.  But  nothing  can  be 
proved.  This  Browning  will  probably  deny 
that  he  received  money  in  trust  from  the  dead 
father.” 

Jack  King’s  countenance  fell. 

44  When  you  go  back  to  Chicago  talk  with 
the  boy,  and  find  out  whether  the  family  have 
any  evidence  that  will  support  their  claim. 


I 


THOMAS  BROWNING’S  SECRET.  315 

Then  send  the  boy  on  to  me,  and  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done.” 

“  I  accept  the  suggestion  with  pleasure.  But 
I  will  offer  an  amendment.  Let  us  write  the 
boy  to  come  on  at  once,  and  have  a  joint  con- 
sultation  in  his  interest.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


FELICIE  PROVES  TROUBLESOME. 

WE  must  return  to  Chicago  for  a  short 
time  before  recording  the  incidents  of 
Luke’s  visit  to  Milwaukee. 

\ 

Though  Harold  had  lost  nearly  half  of  his 
money  through  being  compelled  to  divide  with 
Felicie,  he  was  upon  the  whole  well  satisfied 
with  the  way  in  which  he  had  escaped  from 
suspicion.  He  had  his  gold  watch,  and,  as 
far  as  he  knew,  the  story  which  he  had  told 
about  it  had  not  been  doubted.  But  some¬ 
thing  happened  that  annoyed  and  alarmed 
him. 

One  day,  when  there  was  no  one  else  in  the 
house  except  the  servants,  Felicie  intercepted 
him  as  he  was  going  out. 

“  I  want  a  word  with  you,  Master  Harold,” 
she  said. 

“I  am  in  a  hurry,  Felicie,”  replied  Harold, 

316 


FELICIE  PROVES  TROUBLESOME.  317 


who  had  conceived  a  dislike  for  the  French 
maid. 

44  Still,  I  think  you  can  spare  me  a  few  min¬ 
utes,”  went  on  Felicie,  smiling  in  an  unpleas¬ 
ant  manner. 

“Well,  be  quick  about  it,”  said  Harold 
impatiently. 

4  4 1  have  a  sister  who  is  very  sick.  She  is  a 
widow  with  two  children,  and  her  means  are 
very  small.” 

44 Goodness,  Felicie!  What  is  all  this  to 
me  %  Of  course  I’m  sorry  for  her,  but  I  don’t 
know  her.” 

44  She  looks  tome  to  help  her,”  continued 
Felicie. 

44  Well,  that’s  all  right !  I  suppose  you  are 
going  to  help  her.” 

44  There  is  the  trouble,  Master  Harold.  I 
have  no  money  on  hand.” 

4  4  W ell,  I’ m  sure  that  is  unlucky,  but  why 
do  you  speak  to  me  about  it  %  ” 

44  Because,”  and  here  Felicie’ s  eyes  glis¬ 
tened,  44 1  know  you  obtained  some  money  re¬ 
cently  from  your  aunt.” 

44  Hush  !  ”  said  Harold  apprehensively. 


318 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  But  it’s  true.” 

“And  it’s  true  that  you  made  me  give  you 
half  of  it.” 

“  It  all  went  to  my  poor  sister,”  said  Fe- 
licie  theatrically. 

“  I  don’t  see  what  I  have  to  do  with  that,” 
said  Harold,  not  without  reason. 

“  So  that  I  kept  none  for  myself.  How  I 
am  sure  you  will  open  your  heart,  and  give 
me  five  dollars  more.” 

“I  never  heard  such  cheek!”  exclaimed 
Harold  indignantly.  “  You’ve  got  half,  and 
are  not  satisfied  with  that.” 

“But  think  of  my  poor  sister!”  said  Fe- 
licie,  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  in 
which  there  were  no  tears. 

“Think  of  me!”  exclaimed  Harold,  an- 
grily. 

“  Then  you  wont  give  me  the  trifle  I  ask  ?  ” 

“  Trifle  ?  I  haven’t  got  it.” 

“Where  is  it  gone  ?  ” 

“Gone  to  buy  this  watch.  That  took  nearly 
the  whole.” 

“Is  it  indeed  so?  I  thought  you  received 
it  as  a  reward  for  picking  up  a  pocketbook.” 


FELICIE  PROVES  TROUBLESOME. 


319 


“  I  had  to  tell  my  aunt  something.  Other¬ 
wise  they  would  ask  me  embarrassing  ques¬ 
tions.’’ 

“  Ah,  quelle  invention  !  ”  exclaimed  Felicie 
playfully.  “  And  you  really  have  none  of  the 
money  left  ?  ” 

“No.” 

“Then — there  is  only  one  way.” 

“What  is  that  ?  ” 

“  To  open  the  drawer  again.” 

“Are  you  mad,  Felicie?  I  should  surely 
be  discovered.  It  wont  do  to  try  it  a  second 
time  when  my  aunt  is  on  her  guard.  Besides, 
very  likely  she  doesn’t  keep  her  money  there 
now.” 

“Oh  yes,  she  does.” 

“  How  do  you  know  ?  ” 

4  ‘  I  was  in  the  room  yesterday  when  she 
opened  the  drawer  to  take  out  money  to  pay 
a  bill.” 

“  She  must  be  foolish  then.” 

“Ah,”  said  Felicie  coolly,  “she  thinks 
lightning  wont  strike  a  second  time  in  the 
same  place.” 

“  Well,  it  wont.” 


320 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  There  must  have  been  fifty  dollars  in  bills 
in  the  drawer,”  continued  Felicie  insinuat- 
ingly. 

4  ‘  It  may  stay  there  for  all  me.  I  wont  go 
to  the  drawer  again.” 

“  I  must  have  some  money,”  said  Felicie  sig¬ 
nificantly. 

4  ‘  Then  tell  Aunt  Eliza,  and  she  may  give  you 
some.” 

“  I  don’t  think  your  Aunt  Eliza  likes  me,” 

> 

said  Felicie  frankly. 

“  Very  likely  not,”  said  Harold,  with  equal 
candor. 

“  You  can  raise  some  money  on  your  watch, 
Master  Harold,”  suggested  Felicie. 

“How?” 

“  At  the  pawnbroker’s.”  -  ' 

“  Well,  I  don’t  mean  to,”  answered  Harold 
shortly. 

“Ho?” 

“  Ho  !  ”  returned  Harold  emphatically. 

“  Suppose  I  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Merton  who 
took  her  money  ?  ’  ’ 

“You  would  only  expose  yourself.” 

“  I  did  not  take  it.” 


FELICIE  PROVES  TROUBLESOME.  321 


“  You  made  me  divide  with  you.” 

“  I  shall  deny  all  that.  Besides,  I  shall  tell 
all  that  I  saw — on  that  day.” 

Harold  felt  troubled.  Felicie  might,  as  he 
knew,  make  trouble  for  him,  and  though  he 
could  in  turn  inform  against  her,  that  would 

not  make  matters  much  better  for  him.  Prob- 

* 

ably  the  whole  story  would  come  out,  and  he 
felt  sure  that  the  French  maid  would  not  spare 
him. 

A  lucky  thought  came  to  him. 

“  Felicie,”  he  said,  “  I  think  I  can  suggest 
something  that  will  help  you.” 

“Well,  what  is  it?” 

“Go  to  my  aunt’s  drawer  yourself.  You 
have  plenty  of  chance,  and  you  can  keep  all 
the  money  you  find.  I  wont  ask  you  for  any 
of  it.” 

Felicie  eyed  him  sharply.  She  was  not  sure 
but  he  meant  to  entrap  her. 

“  I  have  no  keys,”  she  said. 

“  You  can  use  the  same  bunch  I  have.  Here 
they  are.” 

Felicie  paused  a  moment,  then  took  the 
proffered  keys.  After  all,  why  should  she 


322 


LUKE  WALTON. 


not  make  use  of  the  suggestion  ?  It  would 
be  thought  that  the  second  thief  was  the  same 
as  the  first. 

“  Can  I  rely  on  your  discretion,  Master  Har¬ 
old  %  ’  ’  she  asked. 

“Yes,  certainly.  Iam  not  very  likely  to 
say  anything  about  the  matter.” 

“  True  !  It  might  not  be  for  your  interest. 
Good-morning,  Master  Harold,  I  wont  detain 
you  any  longer.” 

Harold  left  the  house  with  a  feeling  of 
relief. 

“  I  hope  Felicie  will  be  caught !  ”  he  said  to 
himself.  “  I  have  a  great  mind  to  give  Aunt 
Eliza  a  hint.” 

It  looked  as  if  the  generally  astute  Felicie 
had  made  a  mistake. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


V 

Luke  walton’s  letter. 

^  TT ERE  is  a  letter  for  yon,  Luke  !  ”  said 

XI  Mrs.  Walton. 

Lnke  took  it  in  his  hand  and  regarded  it 
curiously.  He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  receiv¬ 
ing  letters. 

“  It  is  postmarked  Milwaukee,”  he  said. 

uDo  you  know  any  one  in  Milwaukee 
asked  his  mother. 

“  No  ;  or  stay,  it  must  be  from  Mr.  Powell, 
a  brother  of  Mrs.  Tracy.” 

“  Probably  he  sends  a  message  to  his  sister.” 

By  this  time  Luke  had  opened  the  following 
letter,  which  he  read  with  surprise  and  excite¬ 
ment  : 

Dear  Luke  :  Come  to  Milwaukee  as  soon  as 
you  can,  and  join  me  at  the  Prairie  Hotel.  I 
write  in  your  own  interest.  There  is  a  large 
sum  due  to  your  father,  which  I  may  be  able 
to  put  you  in  the  way  of  collecting.  You  had 


LUKE  WALTON. 


better  see  Aunt  Eliza,  and  ask  leave  of  absence 
for  a  day  or  two.  If  you  haven’t  money 
enough  to  come  on,  let  her  know,  and  I  am 
sure  she  will  advance  it  to  you. 

'  Your  friend, r 

Warner  Powell. 

“  What  can  it  mean  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Walton, 
to  whom  Luke  read  the  letter. 

‘ 6  It  must  refer  to  the  ten  thousand  dollars 
which  father  sent  to  us  on  his  dying  bed.” 

“  If  it  only  were  so  !  ”  said  the  widow,  clasp¬ 
ing  her  hands. 

“At  any  rate,  I  shall  soon  find  out,  mother. 
I  had  better  take  the  letter  which  was  sent  us, 
giving  us  the  first  information  of  the  legacy.” 

“Very  well,  Luke  !  I  don’t  know  anything 
about  business.  I  must  leave  the  matter  in 
your  hands.” 

“  I  will  go  at  once  to  Mrs.  Merton  and  ask 
if  it  will  inconvenience  her  if  I  go  away  for  a 
couple  of  days.” 

“Do  so,  Luke!  She  is  a  kind  friend,  and 
you  should  do  nothing  without  her  permis¬ 
sion.” 

Luke  took  the  cars  for  Prairie  Avenue, 
though  it  was  afternoon,  and  he  had  been 


luke  walton’s  letter. 


325 


there  once  already.  He  was  shown  imme¬ 
diately  into  the  old  lady’s  presence. 

Mrs.  Merton  saw  him  enter  with  surprise. 

“Has  anything  happened,  Luke?”  she 
asked. 

4  ‘  I  have  received  a  letter  from  your  nephew, 
summoning  me  to  Milwaukee.” 

“  I  hope  he  is  not  in  any  scrape.” 

“No  ;  it  is  a  very  friendly  letter,  written  in 
my  interest.  May  I  read  it  to  you  ?  ” 

“  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  it.” 

Mrs.  Merton  settled  herself  back  in  her 
rocking-chair  and  listened  to  the  reading  of 
the  letter. 

“  Ho  you  know  what  this  refers  to,  Luke  ?” 
she  asked. 

“Yes;  my  father  on  his  death-bed  in 
California  intrusted  a  stranger  with  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  bring  to  my  mother. 
He  kept  it  for  his  own  use,  and  .it  was 
only  by  an  accident  that  we  heard  about 
the  matter.” 

“You  interest  me,  Luke.  What  was  the 
accident  \  ” 

Luke  explained. 


326 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  It  must  be  this  that  Mr.  Powell  refers  to,” 
he  added. 

4 4  But  I  don’t  see  how  my  nephew  should 
have  anything  to  do  with  it.” 

4  4  There  is  a  man  in  Milwaukee  who  answers 
the  description  of  the  stranger  to  whom  my 
poor  father  intrusted  his  money.  I  have  seen 
him,  for  he  often  comes  to  Chicago.  I  have 
even  spoken  to  him.” 

44  Have  you  ever  taxed  him  with  this  breach 
of  trust  ?  ” 

44  No,  for  he  bears  a  different  name.  He  is 
Thomas  Browning,  while  the  letter  mentions 
Thomas  Butler.” 

44  He  may  have  changed  his  name.” 

44 1  was  stupid  not  to  think  of  that  before. 
There  can  hardly  be  two  men  so  singularly 
alike.  I  have  come  to  ask  you,  Mrs.  Merton, 
if  you  can  spare  me  for  two  or  three  days.” 

44  For  as  long  as  you  like,  Luke,”  said  the 
old  lady  promptly.  4  4  Have  you  money  for 
traveling  expenses  ?” 

44  Yes,  thank  you.” 

44  No  matter.  Here  are  twenty  dollars. 
Money  never  comes  amiss.” 


luke  walton’s  letter.  327 

.  \ 

“  You  are  always  kind  to  me,  Mrs.  Merton,” 
said  Luke  gratefully. 

“  It  is  easy  to  be  kind  if  one  is  rich.  I  want 
to  see  that  man  punished.  Let  me  give  you 
one  piece  of  advice.  Be  on  your  guard  with 
this  man  \  He  is  not  to  be  trusted.” 

“  Thank  you  !  I  am  sure  your  advice  is 
good.” 

“I  wish  you  good  luck,  Luke.  However 
things  may  turn  out,  there  is  one  thing  that 
gratifies  me.  Warner  is  showing  himself  your* 
friend.  I  have  looked  upon  him  till  recently 
as  a  black  sheep,  but  he  is  redeeming  himself 
rapidly  in  my  eyes.  I  shall  not  forget  his 
kindness  to  you.” 

As  Luke  went  downstairs  he  met  Mrs. 
Tracy. 

“Here  again  !  ”  said  she  coldly.  “  Did  my 
aunt  send  for  you  this  afternoon  ?  ” 

“No,  madam.” 

“  Then  you  should  not  have  intruded.  You 
are  young,  but  you  are  very  artful.  I  see 
through  your  schemes,  you  may  rest  assured.” 

“  I  wished  to  show  Mrs.  Merton  a  letter  from 
your  brother,  now  in  Milwaukee,”  said  Luke. 


328 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Oh,  that’s  it,  is  it  \  Let  me  see  the  letter.” 
“  I  must  refer  you  to  Mrs.  Merton.” 

“  He  has  probably  sent  to  Aunt  Eliza  for 
some  money,”  thought  Mrs.  Tracy.  “  He  and 
the  boy  are  well  matched.” 


v 

s 


CHAPTER  XL. 

FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  THE  ENEMY. 

THOMAS  BROWNING  sat  in  his  hand¬ 
some  study,  in  a  complacent  frame  of 
mind.  The  caucus  was  to  be  held  in  the  even¬ 
ing,  and  he  confidently  expected  the  nomina¬ 
tion  for  mayor.  It  was  the  post  he  had  coveted 
for  a  long  time.  There  were  other  honors  that 
were  greater,  but  the  mayoralty  would  per¬ 
haps  prove  a  stepping-stone  to  them.  He 
must  not  be  impatient.  He  was  only  in  middle 
life,  and  there  was  plenty  of  time. 

u  I  didn’t  dream  this  when  I  was  a  penniless 
miner  in  California,”  he  reflected  gleefully. 
u  Fortune  was  hard  upon  me  then,  but  now  I 
am  at  the  top  of  the  heap.  All  my  own  good 
management  too.  Tom  Butler — no,  Brown¬ 
ing — is  no  fool,  if  I  do  say  it  myself.” 

“  Some  one  to  see  you,  Mr.  Browning,”  said 
the  servant. 


329 


830 


LUKE  WALT  OX. 


“  Show  him  in  !  ”  replied  the  philanthropist. 

A  poorly  dressed  man  followed  the  maid  into 
the  room. 

Mr.  Browning  crowned.  He  had  thought  it 
might  be  some  influential  member  of  his  party. 

“  What  do  you  want  1  ”  he  asked  roughly. 

The  poor  man  stood  humbly  before  him, 
nervously  pressing  the  hat  between  his  hands. 

‘  ‘  I  am  one  of  your  tenants,  Mr.  Browning. 
I  am  behindhand  with  my  rent,  owing  to  sick¬ 
ness  in  the  family,  and  I  have  been  ordered 
out.” 

“  And  very  proper,  tool”  said  Browning 
harshly.  “You  can’t  expect  me  to  let  you 
stay  gratis.” 

“  But,  sir,  you  have  the  reputation  of  being 
a  philanthropist.  It  hardly  seems  in  char¬ 
acter — ” 

“I  do  not  call  myself  a  philanthropist — 
others  call  me  so — and  perhaps  they  are  right. 
I  help  the  poor  to  the  extent  of  my  means,  but 
even  a  philanthropist  expects  his  honest  dues.” 

“Then  you  can  do  nothing  for  me,  sir  ? ” 

“  ISTo  ;  I  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  interfere 
in  your  case.” 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  THE  ENEMY.  331 


The  poor  man  went  out  sorrowfully,  leaving 
the  philanthropist  in  an  irritable  mood.  Five 
minutes  later  a  second  visitor  was  announced. 

“  Who  is  it?”  asked  Browning,  fearing  it 
might  be  another  tenant. 

“  It  is  a  boy,  sir.” 

“  With  a  message,  probably.  Show  him 
up.” 

But  Thomas  Browning  was  destined  to  a  sur¬ 
prise,  when,  in  the  manly  looking  youth  who 
entered,  he  recognized  the  Chicago  newsboy 
who  had  already  excited  his  uneasiness. 

“  What  brings  you  here?”  he  demanded  in 
a  startled  tone. 

“I  don’t  know  if  you  remember  me,  Mr. 
Browning,”  said  Luke  quietly.  “I  have  sold 
you  papers  near  the  Sherman  House,  in  Chi¬ 
cago.” 

“I  thought  your  face  looked  familiar,” 
said  Browning,  assuming  an  indifferent  tone. 
“  You  have  made  a  mistake  in  coming  to 
Milwaukee.  You  cannot  do  as  well  here  as  in 
Chicago.” 

“  I  have  not  come  here  in  search  of  a  place. 
I  have  a  good  one  at  home.” 


332  LUKE  WALTON. 

“  I  suppose  you  have  some  object  in  coining 

to  this  city.” 

% 

“  Yes,  I  came  to  see  you.” 

‘ ‘ Upon  my  word  I  ought  to  feel  flattered, 
but  I  can’t  do  anything  for  you.  I  have  some 
reputation  in  charitable  circles,  but  I  have  my 
hands  full  here.” 

“I  have  not  come  to  ask  you  a  favor,  Mr. 
Browning.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  ask 
your  advice  in  a  matter  of  importance  to 
me.” 

Browning  brightened  up.  He  was  always 
ready  to  give  advice. 

“  Go  on  !  ”  he  said. 

“  When  I  was  a  young  boy  my  father  went 
to  California.  He  left  my  mother,  my  brother, 
and  myself  very  poorly  provided  for,  but  he 
hoped  to  earn  money  at  the  mines.  A  year 
passed,  and  we  heard  of  his  death.” 

“A  good  many  men  died  in  California,” 
said  Browning  phlegmatically. 

“  We  could  not  learn  that  father  left  any¬ 
thing,  and  we  were  compelled  to  get  along  as 

I 

we  could.  Mother  obtained  sewing  to  do  at 
low  prices,  and  I  sold  papers.” 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  THE  EMMY.  333 


“  A  common  experience!”  said  Browning 
coldly. 

“  About  three  months  ago,”  continued  Luke, 
“we  were  surprised  by  receiving,  in  a  letter 
from  a  stranger,  a  message  from  my  father’s 
death-bed.” 

Thomas  Browning  started  and  turned  pale, 
as  he  gazed  intently  in  the  boy’::  face. 

“How  much  does  he  know  ?  ”  he  asked  him¬ 
self  apprehensively. 

“  Go  on  !  ”  he  said  slowly. 

“  In  this  letter  we  learned  for  the  first  time 
that  father  had  intrusted  the  sum  of  ten  thous¬ 
and  dollars  to  an  acquaintance  to  be  brought 
to  my  mother.  This  man  proved  false,  and 
kept  the  money.  ’  ’ 

“  This  story  may  or  may  not  be  true,”  said 
Browning  with  an  effort.  “Was  the  man’s 
name  given  \  ” 

“Yes  ;  his  name  was  Thomas  Butler.” 

“  Indeed  !  Have  you  ever  met  him  \  ” 

“I  think  so,”  answered  Luke  slowly.  “I 
will  read  his  description  from  the  letter  :  ‘  He 
has  a  wart  on  the  upper  part  of  his  right 
cheek — a  mark  which  disfigures  and  mortifies 


334 


LUKE  WALTON. 


him  exceedingly.  He  is  about  five  feet  ten 
inches  in  height,  with  a  dark  complexion  and 
dark  hair,  a  little  tinged  with  gray.’  ” 

u  Let  me  see  the  letter,”  said  Browning 
hoarsely. 

He  took  the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  moving 
near  the  grate  fire  began  to  read  it.  Suddenly 
the  paper,  as  if  accidentally,  slipped  from  his 
fingers,  and  fell  upon  the  glowing  coals — where 
it  was  instantly  consumed. 

“  How  careless  I  am  !  ”  ejaculated  Browning, 
but  there  was  exultation  in  his  glance. 


/ 


CHAPTER  XLI 


MR.  BROWNING  COMES  TO  TERMS. 

HE  destruction  of  the  letter,  and  the  open 


JL  exultation  of  the  man  who  had  in  inten¬ 
tion  at  least  doubly  wronged  him,  did  not  ap¬ 
pear  to  dismay  Luke  Walton.  He  sat  quite 
cool  and  collected,  facing  Mr.  Browning. 

“  Really  I  don’t  see  how  the  letter  happened 
to  slip  from  my  hand,”  continued  the  philan¬ 
thropist.  ‘  ‘  I  am  afraid  you  considered  it  im¬ 
portant.” 

“  I  should  if  it  had  been  the  genuine  letter,” 
said  Luke. 

“  What?  ”  gasped  Browning. 

“  It  was  only  a  copy,  as  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear.” 

“  Boy,  I  think  you  are  deceiving  me,”  said 
Browning  sharply. 

“  Hot  at  all !  I  left  the  genuine  letter  in  the 
hands  of  my  lawyer.” 


335 


336 


LUKE  WALTON. 


“  Your  lawyer  ?  ” 

“  Yes.  I  have  put  this  matter  in  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Jordan,  of  this  city.” 

Mr.  Browning  looked  very  much  disturbed. 
Mr.  Jordan  was  a  well-known  and  eminent 
attorney.  Moreover,  he  was  opposed  in  poli¬ 
tics  to  the  would-be  mayor.  If  his  opponent 
should  get  hold  of  this  discreditable  chapter  in 
his  past  history,  his  political  aspirations  might 
as  well  be  given  up.  Again  he  asked  himself, 
“  How  much  does  this  boy  know  ?  ” 

“  If  you  are  employing  a  lawyer,”  he  said 
after  a  pause,  “I  don’t  understand  why  you 
came  to  me  for  advice.” 

“  I  thought  you  might  be  interested  in  the 
matter,”  said  Luke  significantly. 

“  Why  should  I  be  interested  in  your 
affairs  %  I  have  so  many  things  to  think  of 
that  really  I  can’t  take  hold  of  anything 
new.” 

“  I  will  tell  you,  sir.  You  are  the  man  who 
received  money  in  trust  from  my  dying 
father.  I  look  to  you  to  restore  it  with  in¬ 
terest.” 

“How  dare  you  insinuate  any  such  thing  \  ” 


ME.  BEOWNING  COMES  TO  TEEMS. 


337 


demanded  Browning  furiously.  “  Do  you 
mean  to  extort  money  by  threats  ?  ” 

“No,  sir.  I  only  ask  for  justice.” 

“  There  is  nothing  to  connect  me  with  the 
matter.  According  to  your  own  letter  it  was  a 
Thomas  Butler  who  received  the  money  you 
refer  to.” 

“True,  and  your  name  at  the  time  was 
Thomas  Butler.” 

Mr.  Browning  turned  livid.  The  net  seemed 
to  be  closing  about  him. 

“  What  proof  have  you  of  this  ridiculous 
assertion  ?  ”  he  demanded. 

“  The  testimony  of  one  who  knew  you  then 
and  now — Mr.  King,  who  keeps  a  cigar  stand 
at  the  Prairie  Hotel.” 

“  Ha  !  traitor  !  ”  ejaculated  Browning,  apos¬ 
trophizing  the  absent  King. 

“This  is  a  conspiracy,”  he  said.  “King 
has  put  you  up  to  this.  He  is  a  discreditable 
tramp  whom  I  befriended  when  in  dire  need. 
This  is  my  reward  for  it.” 

“  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,  Mr.  Brown¬ 
ing.  Mr.  King  is  ready  to  help  me  with  his 

testimony.  My  lawyer  has  advised  me  to  call 
22 


838 


LUKE  WALTON. 

upon  you,  and  to  say  this  :  If  you  will  pay 
over  the  ten  thousand  dollars,  with  interest,  I 
will  engage  in  my  mother’s  name  to  keep  the 
matter  from  getting  before  the  public.” 

“  And  if  I  don’t  agree  to  this  ?  ” 

“Mr.  Jordan  is  instructed  to  bring  suit 
against  you.” 

Drops  of  perspiration  gathered  on  the  brow 
of  Mr.  Browning.  This  would  never  do.  The 
suit,  even  if  unsuccessful,  would  blast  his  rep¬ 
utation  as  a  philanthropist,  and  his  prospects 
as  a  politician. 

“  I  will  see  Mr.  Jordan,”  he  said. 

“Very  w7ell,  sir.  Then  I  will’ wish  you 
good-morning.” 

Within  two  days  Thomas  Browning  had  paid 
over  to  the  lawyer  for  his  young  client  the  full 
sum  demanded,  and  Luke  left  Milwaukee  with 
the  happy  consciousness  that  his  mother  was 
now  beyond  the  reach  of  poverty. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


CONCLUSION 


ELICIE  reflected  over  Harold’s  dishonest 


_L  suggestion,  and  concluded  to  adopt  it. 
She  meant  to  charge  Harold  with  the  second 
robbery,  and  to  brazen  it  out  if  necessary. 
Accordingly,  one  day  she  stole  into  Mrs.  Mer¬ 
ton’s  sitting-room,  and  with  the  keys  supplied 
by  Harold  succeeded  in  opening  the  drawer. 
Inside,  greatly  to  her  surprise,  she  saw  the 
identical  pocketbook  which  it  had  been  under¬ 
stood  was  taken  at  the  time  of  the  first  rob¬ 
bery.  Sue  was  holding  it  in  her  hand,  when  a 
slight  noise  led  her  to  look  up  swiftly. 

To  her  dismay  she  saw  the  old  lady,  whom 
she  had  supposed  out  of  the  house,  regarding 
her  sternly. 

“  What  does  this  mean,  Felicie  ?  ”  demanded 
Mrs.  Merton  sternly. 

“I — I  found  these  keys,  and  was  trying 


339 


340 


LUKE  WALTON. 


them  to  see  if  any  of  them  had  been  used  at 
the  time  your  money  was  stolen.” 

“  Do  you  know  who  took  my  money  on  that 
occasion  ?”  continued  the  old  lady. 

“Yes,  Ido,”  answered  Felicie.  swiftly  de¬ 
ciding  to  tell  the  truth. 

“Who  was  it?” 

“  Your  nephew  Harold,”  answered  Felicie 
glibly. 

“You  know  this  ?  ” 

4  4 1  saw  him  open  the  drawer.  I  was  looking 
through  a  crack  of  the  door.” 

4  4  And  you  never  told  me  this  ?  ’  ’ 

44 1  didn’t  want  to  expose  him.  He  begged 
me  not  to  do  so.” 

44  That  is  singular.  He  warned  me  yester¬ 
day  that  he  suspected  you  of  being  the  thief, 
and  that  he  had  reason  to  think  you  were  plan¬ 
ning  a  second  robbery.” 

“He  did?”  said  Felicie  with  flashing 
eyes. 

44  Yes  ;  what  have  you  to  say  to  it  ?  ” 

44  That  he  put  me  up  to  it,  and  gave  me  these 
keys  to  help  me  in  doing  it.  Of  course  he  ex¬ 
pected  to  share  the  money.” 


CONCLUSION. 


341 


This  last  statement  was  untrue,  but  Felicie 
was  determined  to  be  revenged  upon  her  treach¬ 
erous  ally. 

“And  you  accepted  ?  ” 

“Yes,”  said  Felicie,  seeing  no  way  of  escape. 
“  I  am  poor,  and  thought  you  wouldn’t  miss 
the  money.” 

“My  nephew  accused  Luke  Walton  of  being 
the  thief.” 

“It  is  untrue.  He  wanted  to  divert  sus¬ 
picion  from  himself.  Besides,  he  hates 
Luke.” 

“  Do  you  ?  ” 

“  No  ;  I  think  him  a  much  better  boy  than 
Harold.” 

“So  do  I.  Where  did  my  nephew  get  his 
gold  watch?”  , 

“  It  was  bought  with  the  money  he  stole 
from  the  drawer.” 

“So  I  supposed.  Well,  Felicie,  you  can 
go,  but  I  think  you  had  better  hand  me  that 
bunch  of  keys.” 

Y 

“  Shall  you  report  me  to  Mrs.  Tracy  ?  ” 

“I  have  not  decided.  For  the  present  we 
will  both  keep  this  matter  secret.” 


342 


LUKE  WALTON. 


Luke’s  absence  was  of  course  noticed  by 
Mrs.  Tracv. 

4/ 

“  Have  you  discharged  Luke  Walton  ?  ”  she 
asked  hopefully.  44  I  observe  he  has  not  come 
here  for  the  last  two  or  three  days.” 

44  He  has  gone  out  of  the  city — on  business.” 

“I  am  surprised  that  you  should  trust  that 
boy  to  such  an  extent.” 

At  this  moment  a  telegraph  messenger  rang 
the  bell,  and  a  telegram  was  brought  up  to 
Mrs.  Merton. 

It  ran  thus : 

To  Mrs.  Merton,  No.  —  Prairie  Avenue, 
Chicago  : 

I  have  recovered  all  my  mother’s  money, 
with  interest.  Mr.  Powell  is  also  successful. 
Will  return  this  evening. 

Luke  Walton. 

“Read  it  if  you  like,  Louisa,”  said  the 
old  lady,  smiling  with  satisfaction. 

4 4  What  does  it  mean  ?  ’  ’ 

44  That  Luke  has  recovered  over  ten  thousand 
dollars,  of  which  his  mother  had  been  de¬ 
frauded.  It  was  Warner  who  put  him  on  the 
track  of  the  man  who  wrongfully  held  the 
money.” 


CONCLUSION. 


343 


“Indeed!”  said  Mrs.  Tracy  spitefully. 
“Then  the  least  he  can  do  is  to  return  the 
money  he  took  from  you.” 

“  He  never  took  any,  Louisa.” 

“Who  did,  then?” 

“Your  son  Harold.” 

“Who  has  been  telling  lies  about  my  poor 
boy  ?”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tracy  angrily. 

“A  person  who  saw  him  unlocking  the 
drawer.” 

“Has  Luke  Walton  been  telling  falsehoods 
about  my  son  %  ’  ’ 

“  No  ;  it  was  quite  another  person.  I  have 
other  proof  also,  and  have  known  for  some 
time  who  the  real  thief  was.  If  Harold  claims 
that  I  have  done  him  injustice,  send  him 
to  me.” 

After  an  interview  with  Harold,  Mrs.  Tracy 
was  obliged  to  believe,  much  against  her  will, 
that  he  was  the  guilty  one,  and  not  the  boy 
she  so  much  detested.  This  did  not  prepossess 
her  any  the  more  in  favor  of  Luke  Walton, 
whom  she  regarded  as  the  rival  and  enemy  of 
her  son. 


344 


LUKE  WALTON. 


It  was  a  joyful  coming  home  for  Luke.  He 
removed  with  his  mother  at  once  to  a  nice 
neighborhood,  and  ceased  to  be  a  Chicago 
newsboy.  He  did  not  lose  the  friendship  of 
Mrs.  Merton,  who  is  understood  to  have  put 
him  down  for  a  large  legacy  in  her  will,  and 
still  employs  him  to  transact  much  of  her  bus¬ 
iness.  Next  year  she  proposes  to  establish  her 
nephew,  Warner  Powell,  and  Luke  in  a  com¬ 
mission  business,  under  the  style  of 

Powell  &  Walton, 

she  furnishing  the  capital. 

The  house  on  Prairie  Avenue  is  closed.  Mrs. 
Tracy  is  married  again,  to  a  man  whose  intem¬ 
perate  habits  promise  her  little  happiness. 
Harold  seems  unwilling  to  settle  down  to  bus¬ 
iness,  but  has  developed  a  taste  for  dress  and 
the  amusements  of  a  young  man  about  town. 
He  thinks  he  will  eventually  be  provided  for 
by  Mrs.  Merton,  but  in  this  he  will  be  mis¬ 
taken,  as  she  lias  decided  to  leave  much  the 
larger  part  of  her  wealth  to  charitable  institu¬ 
tions,  after  remembering  her  nephew,  Warner 
Powell,  handsomely. 

J  to 


CONCLUSION. 


845 


Ambrose  Kean  never  repeated  the  mistake 
he  had  made.  Still  more,  by  diligent  economy 
he  saved  up  the  sum  advanced  him  by  Mrs. 
Merton,  and  he  offered  it  to  her.  She  accepted 
it,  but  returned  it  many  times  over  to  his 
mother.  Her  patronage  brought  him  another 
advantage  ;  it  led  his  employer  to  increase  his 
salary,  which  is  now  double  that  which  he 
formerly  received. 

Felicie  lost  her  position,  but  speedily  se¬ 
cured  another,  where  it  is  to  be  hoped  she  will 
be  more  circumspect  in  her  conduct. 

Thomas  Browning  after  all  lost  the  nomina¬ 
tion  which  he  craved — and  much  of  his  wealth 
is  gone.  He  dabbled  in  foolish  speculations, 
and  is  now  comparatively  a  poor  man. 
Through  the  agency  of  Jack  King,  the  story 
of  his  breach  of  trust  was  whispered  about, 
and  the  sham  philanthropist  is  better  under¬ 
stood  and  less  respected  by  his  fellow-citizens. 

His  nephew,  Stephen  Webb,  has  been 
obliged  to  buckle  down  to  hard  wrork  at  ten 
dollars  a  week,  and  feels  that  his  path  is  in¬ 
deed  thorny. 

Luke  Walton  is  not  puffed  up  by  his  un- 


346 


LUKE  WALTON. 


expected  and  remarkable  success.  He  never 
fails  to  recognize  kindly,  and  help,  if  there  is 
need,  the  old  associates  of  his  humbler  days, 
and  never  tries  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  was 
once  a  Chicago  Newsboy. 


THE  END. 


I 


t 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 


The  enormous  sales  of  the  books  of  Horatio  Alger, 
Jr.,  show  the  greatness  of  his  popularity  among  the 
boys,  and  prove  that  he  is  one  of  their  most  favored 
writers.  I  am  told  that  more  than  half  a  million  copies 
altogether  have  bedn  sold,  and  that  all  the  large  circu¬ 
lating  libraries  in  the  country  have  several  complete 
sets,  of  which  only  two  or  three  volumes  are  ever 
on  the  shelves  at  one  time.  If  this  is  true,  what  thou¬ 
sands  and  thousands  of  boys  have  read  and  are  reading 
Mr.  Alger’s  books!  His  peculiar  style  of  stories,  often 
imitated  but  never  equaled,  have  taken  a  hold  upon  the 
young  people,  and,  despite  their  similarity,  are  eagerly 
read  as  soon  as  they  appear. 

Mr.  Alger  became  famous  with  the  publication  of 
that  undying  book,  “Ragged  Dick,  or  Street  Life  in  New 
York.”  It  was  his  first  book  for  young  people,  and  its 
success  was  so  great  that  he  immediately  devoted  him¬ 
self  to  that  kind  of  writing.  It  was  a  new  and  fertile 
field  for  a  writer  then,  and  Mr.  Alger’s  treatment  of  it 
at  once  caught  the  fancy  of  the  boys.  “Ragged  Dick” 
first  appeared  in  1868,  and  ever  since  then  it  has  been 
selling  steadily,  until  now  it  is  estimated  that  about 
200,000  copies  of  the  series  have  been  sold. 

— “Pleasant  Hours  for  Boys  and  Girls.” 


A  writer  for  boys  should  have  an  abundant  sym¬ 
pathy  with  them.  He  should  be  able  to  enter  into  their 
plans,  hopes,  and  aspirations.  He  should  learn  to  look 
upon  life  as  they  do.  Boys  object  to  be  written  down  to. 
A  boy’s  heart  opens  to  the  man  or  writer  who  under¬ 
stands  him. 

— From  “Writing  Stories  for  Boys,”  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


$6.(4 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— First  Series. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERI ES— Second  Series. 

4  vols. 

Julius.  Sam’s  Chaiice. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy. 


$4.00 


$4.00 


CAMPAIGN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Frank’s  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman’s  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott’s  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— First  Series. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERI  ES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.00 

Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter’s  Legacy. 


BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack’s  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 


$4.00 


NEW  WORLD  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Pigging  for  Gold.  Facing  the  World.  In  a  New  World. 


$3.00 


VICTORY  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Only  an  Irish  Boy.  Adrift  in  the  City. 

Victor  Vane,  or  the  Young  Secretary. 

FRANK  AND  FEARLESS  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Frank  Hunter’s  Peril.  Frank  and  Fearless. 

The  Young  Salesman. 

GOOD  FORTUNE  LIBRARY. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Walter  Sherwood’s  Probation.  A  Boy’s  Fortune. 

The  Young  Bank  Messenger. 

HOW  TO  RISE  LIBRARY. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Jed,  the  Poorhouse  Boy.  Rupert’s  Ambition. 

Lester’s  Luck. 


$3.00 


$3.00 


$3.00 


THE  FAMOUS  STANDARD  JUVENILES 


Published  by 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO. 
Philadelphia 


EDWARD  S.  ELLIS. 

Edward  S.  Ellis,  the  popular  writer  of  boys’  books,  is 
a  native  of  Ohio,  where  he  was  born  somewhat  more 
than  a  half-century  ago.  His  father  was  a  famous 
hunter  and  rifle  shot,  and  it  was  doubtless  his  exploits 
and  those  of  his  associates,  with  their  tales  of  adven¬ 
ture  which  gave  the  son  his  taste  for  the  breezy  back- 
woods  and  for  depicting  the  stirring  life  of  the  early 
settlers  on  the  frontier. 

Mr.  Ellis  began  writing  at  an  early  age  and  his 
work  was  acceptable  from  the  first.  His  parents  re¬ 
moved  to  New  Jersey  while  he  was  a  boy  and  he  was 
graduated  from  the  State  Normal  School  and  became  a 
member  of  the  faculty  while  still  in  his  teens.  He  was 
afterward  principal  of  the  Trenton  High  School,  a  trus¬ 
tee  and  then  superintendent  of  schools.  By  that  time 
his  services  as  a  writer  had  become  so  pronounced  that 
he  gave  his  entire  attention  to  literature.  He  was  an 
exceptionally  successful  teacher  and  wrote  a  number  of  , 
text-books  for  schools,  all  of  which  met  with  high 
favor.  For  these  and  his  historical  productions,  Prince¬ 
ton  College  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Master 
of  Arts. 

The  high  moral  character,  the  clean,  manly  ten¬ 
dencies  and  the  admirable  literary  stvle  of  Mr.  Ellis’ 
stories  have  made  him  as  popular  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic  as  in  this  country.  A  leading  paper  re¬ 
marked  some  time  since,  that  no  mother  need  hesitate 


to  place  in  the  hands  of  her  boy  any  book  written  by; 
Mr.  Ellis.  They  are  found  in  the  leading  Sunday-school 
libraries,  where,  as  may  well  be  believed,  they  are  in 
wide  demand  and  do  much  good  by  their  sound,  whole¬ 
some  lessons  which  render  them  as  acceptable  to  pa¬ 
rents  as  to  their  children.  Nearly  all  of  the  Ellis  books 
published  by  The  John  C.  Winston  Company  are  re¬ 
issued  in  London,  and  many  have  been  translated  into 
other  languages.  Mr.  Ellis  is  a  writer  of  varied  accom¬ 
plishments,  and,  in  addition  to  his  stories,  is  the  author 
of  historical  works,  of  a  number  of  pieces  of  popular 
music,  and  has  made  several  valuable  inventions.  Mr. 
Ellis  is  in  the  prime  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers, 
and  great  as  have  been  the  merits  of  his  past  achieve¬ 
ments,  there  is  reason  to  look  for  more  brilliant  pro¬ 
ductions  from  his  pen  in  the  near  future. 


DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Hunters  of  the  Ozark.  The  Last  War  Trail. 

Camp  in  the  Mountains. 

LOG  CABIN  SERIES. 

By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.Q0 

Footprints  in  the  Forest. 
Camp-Fire  and  Wigwam. 

BOY  PIONEER  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Ned  in  the  Block-House.  Ned  on  the  River. 

Ned  in  the  Woods. 

THE  NORTHWEST  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Two  Boys  In  Wyoming.  Cowmen  and  Rustlers. 

A  Strange  Craft  and  its  Wonderful  Voyage. 

BOONE  AND  KENTON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Shod  with  Silence.  In  the  Days  of  the  Pioneera. 

Phantom  of  the  River. 


3  vols. 
Lost  Trail. 


$2.00 


WAR  CHIEF  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

Red  Eagle.  Blazing  Arrow. 

Iron  Heart,  War  Chief  of  the  Iroquois. 

THE  NEW  DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Deerfoot  in  the  Forest.  Deerfoot  on  the  Prairie. 
Deerfoot  in  the  Mountains. 

TRUE  GRIT  SERIES. 

By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Dorsey,  the  Young  Inventor. 
Secret  of  Coffin  Island. 

GREAT  AMERICAN  SERIES. 

2  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $2.00 

Teddy  and  Towser;  or,  Early  Days  in  California. 

Up  the  Forked  River. 

COLONIAL  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

An  American  King.  The  Cromwell  of  Virginia. 

The  Last  Emperor  of  the  Old  Dominion. 

FOREIGN  ADVENTURE  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Lost  in  the  Forbidden  Land.  River  and  Jungle. 

The  Hunt  of  the  White  Elephant. 

PADDLE  YOUR  OWN  CANOE  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

The  Forest  Messengers.  The  Mountain  Star. 

Queen  of  the  Clouds. 


3  vols. 

Jim  and  Joe. 


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